A Fable Tale: Being the Account of James Hunter
by The Wandering Sailor
Summary: This is a tale following the life of James Hunter, after the terrible events of the Oakvale Raid. Will he grow up to be pure of heart, or terribly evil?
1. Chapter 1

A warm breeze drifted through the air, carrying the sweet scent of apples and oaks towards the peaceful little village of Oakvale. It was evening now, and everywhere, the lamps were being lighted, their soft glow gently bathing the cobblestones in warm light.

The twilight air was filed with the chirps of crickets and the quiet songs of the nightingales. Waves from the nearby ocean lapped up onto the shore, and laughter could be heard emanating from the tavern.

James sighed contentedly as he observed the view from atop a small grassy hill above the village. Everything was so calm, so peaceful. He fingered the jar beside him, hoping his father would be back from the tavern soon. James wanted to go firefly catching with him tonight, seeing as the air was balmy and the skies were clear. He scooped up the jar and carefully picked his was down the hillside towards his house. Sure enough, James' father's familiar laughter floated through the open doorway. _He must have a friend over _thought James.

He walked through the doorway, still clutching the jar tightly in his hands.

"Dad?" he called, although he already knew his father was home.

"Come here, son," his father answered back, coming into the main room of their little thatch roofed cottage. "What do you need?"

"Well, I was hoping you and I could go into the fields to catch fireflies, but it looks like you're busy, so I'll just go do something else." He trudged off, looking crestfallen.

"Wait a minute, son," James' father called to him, "my friend here was just leaving. We'll go out as soon as he's gone.

_An Hour Later…_

James and his father stood in one of the many grassy fields that surrounded Oakvale. Around them, dozens of fireflies whirred around, their soft, warm light casting a comforting glow around the two people. Already, they had filled the jar with a fair few of the bright creatures, and James sealed the jar containing them as he and his father wandered over to an old, knotted tree, whose leafy canopy extended far out over their heads. They settled down comfortably between its roots, setting the jar down in front of them. James' father contemplated the fireflies for a moment, before speaking up.

"Would you like me to tell you a story?" he inquired.

James nodded quietly. He loved the stories his father told, the stories of the history of Albion, of the creatures, the Heroes past, and the Heroes present. James settled himself into a more comfortable position and waited for his father to begin.

_Once, long, long ago, there was a Hero who went by the name of Quickblade. I call him Hero, although he wasn't part of the Guild. Quickblade was an independent Hero, one hired and paid money for his own profit, and not the Guild's. He was a prideful man, arrogant in his ways and selfish in his thinking. Despite this, he was an amazing fighter. As an archer, no ones aim was truer. As a swordsman, no one could best him. When it came to the Will, no one rivalled his power at all. Quickblade was well aware of these facts, and took advantage of it. Villagers would call for his aid, and he'd come, slaying progressively deadlier creatures, no matter the risk, and this only strengthened his arrogance. However, as his fame grew, the Guild took notice. In his rise to power, he had robbed the Guild Heroes of their fame; all those years spent training were wasted upon them, as it seemed no one wanted their help anymore; they only wanted Quickblade. The Guild, fearing this would put an end to their good reputation, came up with a plan. They would take their strongest Heroes and band together to bring down Quickblade, thus halting his dangerous ascent to power. So, one night, while travelling through Gibbet Woods on his way to another quest, Quickblade was ambushed. From seemingly out of nowhere, Heroes appeared in the murky shadows, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the moonlight._

_"You have a choice, Quickblade," their leader called, his voice hollow, "you can quit your life of arrogance and stay with us, and we will spare you, or you can continue to lead this sort of life, in which case we will be forced to kill you. The choice is yours, although we'd rather you didn't pick the latter."_

_Quickblade glared and them each, one by one, his eyes bloodshot, then cried out into the night,_

_"So be it then. If I must die, then I die fighting!"_

_And with that, Quickblade drew his sword and charged. He roared with fury and slashed at the Hero standing in front of him. The Hero stumbled backwards, but soon, three others took his place. Quickblade knew he was outnumbered, and that he wouldn't be able to win this fight. Nevertheless, he fought with all his might. Quickblade parried and slashed, kicked and leapt, but soon, he could not go on any longer; Quickblade was succumbing to too many wounds. With one last cry of pain, he dropped his silver sword from nerveless fingers just as the leader of the Heroes ran him through, pinning him to the large tree that loomed over them. Leaving his body there, the Heroes left to celebrate their victory. It wasn't until much later that Quickblade's body was taken down, but his blood remained, splashed onto the bark of the tree. And to this day, that very tree has been used to execute all the terrible criminals in Albion, so much so that it has received the name Gallows Tree. Some even say they can still see the stain of blood left by Quickblade during his final moments, left to show the tarnish the Guild had left on their honour… _

James sat in silence as his father finished his story. He had never heard _that_ story before…His father usually refrained from telling him such bloody stories, or stories that tainted the Guild's name. James watched his father for a moment, deep in contemplation. He was often told that he looked like his mother, whom he didn't even remember, and nothing like his father, although he wished he did. James was small and slight, with jet black hair and grey-blue eyes, just like his mother's. His father, on the other hand, was tall and muscular, with dark blond hair and deep green eyes. The both of them wore nothing but simple peasant's clothing; James, a pair of brown shorts, a dirty white shirt and sandals; his father, a green tunic, brown pants and heavy boots.

James and glanced at the sky, contemplating the myriad of stars overhead, thinking about his mother and sister. They were up there, somewhere. Or at least, that's what James' father had told him when James brought up the subject. His father was always very aloof when they talked about the two women, and he'd always try to change the subject.

The young boy turned to his dad, a question on his tongue.

"Dad, what really happened to mom and Theresa?" he inquired, hoping to get more than a vague answer this time around.

His father sighed, then said in an exasperated tone,

"James, I thought we had been over this before; that subject is not to be brought up. But if you must know, they died years ago, you know that. Now, it's getting late, and you should be in bed. Let those fireflies go and come along."

He rose, and began to walk down the hill. James unscrewed the jar and watched as the fireflies hummed away…He sighed, and followed his father. _Another failed attempt_, he though, just as the last of the nightingale songs died away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_4 years later… _

James looked up from the wood he was chopping, wiping the sweat away from his brow. He had been at it for hours now, chopping timber relentlessly. Winter was fast approaching, and James' father wanted to be sure they had enough firewood to last them for the brutally cold season ahead.

He eyed the mound of wood in front of him, and decided that he was done for the day. James picked up his axe, and, resting it on his shoulder, headed for his house at the top of the hill, kicking up the dead, crackling leaves as he went. The path was covered with them, a sure sign that winter was on their doorsteps. Just as he was about to step into his house, James heard someone call his name. It was Aidan Crowley, the man in charge of watching the three large barns that were the highlight of the town. There, all the supplies such as wheat, barley and tools were stored, to be kept away from prying eyes and thieving hands.

Aidan was waving his hands madly, trying to get his attention. James wandered over to him, casually swinging his axe.

"How can I help you, Aidan?" James asked, sounding falsely cheery, yet still feeling somewhat annoyed. Nobody really liked Aidan. He was a grumpy man, in his late forties and aging badly. He never smiled and only saw fit to talk to people in a rude manner.

"Don't give me that attitude boy," he snarled, "just get over here. And stop swinging that stupid axe; you'll cut someone's leg off."

"Preferably yours," James muttered furiously to himself.

"Now stay here and watch these barns," Aidan snapped, "Don't move, and then you can leave when I get back."

"Yes, Master," James said in an undertone.

"What did you say, boy?" Aidan roared.

"Nothing," James said hurriedly, "I'd be happy to help."

"Humph. Well then, get working." Aidan eyed James one last time, then turned on his heels and strode away.

James watched the man tramp along the path, glaring at his back darkly and crossing his arms. This was _not _how he wanted to spend the rest of his day. James wanted to be down at the docks, helping Victor Morgan with his new three mast ship. But that would obviously have to wait until tomorrow. James sighed heavily. At least his father would be pleased with him for helping someone out, even if it was Aidan Crowley.

James sat himself down on the hard packed dirt just in front of the barns, preparing for a long wait. The warm sun and gentle breeze made him feel drowsy, and just as he was nodding off he heard two voices emanating from behind him. It was probably just two drunken men who had wandered into the bush, although the voices didn't sound drunk, and James' curiosity was piqued in any case. He stood up, hoping to hear them more clearly, but that didn't work. Instead, he dropped into a crouch and crept between two of the largest barns, towards the voices, straining his ears to hear exactly what they said.

"…an' I don't care that Twinblade told us to kill no one, an' just find the boy. I says we kill all the villagers, capture their women, an' spare the boys until we've decided which boy is the one, then kill the rest an' pillage the town. Simple as that, an' much easier than letting 'em all live."

James froze, staring at the sight in front of him. Two rough looking bandits stood there, arguing angrily. The rogue that had just spoken was large and muscular, with a strong, jutting jaw and harsh voice. His companion, however, was completely the opposite. He was small and slight, no sign of muscle on his scrawny body. He had a smooth, slippery voice that James disliked the minute he heard it.

"But Twinblade told us to kill no one!" he hissed, looking angry and worried at the same time, "He said to only scare them enough to hand the boy over!"

"I don't care," the large bandit growled, "me an' the mates decided that we en't doin' what he said, an' we're goin' with a traditional killin' raid, no questions asked. We'll strike tonight, when everyone'll be out."

James felt his heart beating harder and his throat tightening in panic. Tonight was the first night of the Harvest Fayre, and everyone from Oakvale would be in attendance. And the traders too…James' knees went weak, but he managed to creep backwards and out of earshot of the bandits, who were obviously doing a bad job of lying in wait for this evening's raid. He then leaped up and tore down the path as fast as he could, frantically searching for his father. James, being so preoccupied with finding his dad, failed to notice Aidan, who was making his way back down the main path, and collided with him, toppling the man and nearly knocking himself down. Aidan went into a fit, yelling and swearing at the top of his lungs, but James was louder.

"Aidan," he bellowed, still trying to catch his breath, "Aidan, there was a pair of bandits back there, behind the barns, and they were talking about a raid on our village tonight, and how they're going to kill the villagers and take a boy and…"

"Stop, just stop!" Aidan cried, covering his ears and cutting James off, "I've no idea why the bloody hell you're panicking! There's not been a raid on Oakvale in over twenty years! And besides, there are enough guards here during the harvest season that even if, by some wild, improbable chance there _was _a raid, we'd be safe! Not that I believe it will even happen. Probably something you're just making up. Kids these days…"

And he continued on the path, muttering darkly to himself. James looked around, furious. Why wasn't he being listened to? Just because there hadn't been a raid in years didn't mean it couldn't happen now. The festival would be a prime time to plan an attack, due to all the people and goods that would be hanging around. He kicked a nearby oak tree violently, yelling in fury. He needed to calm down, though, and think clearly. Maybe he was getting too worked up. It was probably nothing, just some bandits who had moseyed away from camp and were casually throwing words around…Besides, James had to get ready for the fayre, and didn't have time to worry about something that was probably nothing. Although he did still want to know who the boy they wanted to capture was…and deep down in his heart, James Hunter knew something wasn't right…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The dancing flames of the roaring fire cast eerie, flickering shadows across the bard standing in the middle of a large group of people. He was clad in the deepest of blacks and reds, giving him a slightly sinister air. The song he sang, however, was anything but.

_Once, long ago_

_In a land far away_

_A man far too slow_

_And of prospects too grey_

_Set sail on the tide_

_His fortune change_

_And hard as he tried_

_Although this sounds odd_

_He could never decided_

_On a name for his dog_

_Now I warned you friend_

_As I often do,_

_That these tales do tend_

_To take a path anew_

_Where this once started out_

_About a man and his fate_

_It's now turned about_

_To mankind's best mate! _

The story ended with a chorus of laughter from the crowd, and slowly, James felt himself relaxing and enjoying the festivities. Amid all of the good cheer and laughter, the thought that a raid could occur seemed a joke. It would never happen, James assured himself, and left it at that.

He got up from the fire and strolled towards the village square, where a jumble of colourful stalls had been set up by the various villagers and traders. A thousand scents drifted through the air; roasted hazelnuts, sweet apples, fresh blueberry pies, and frying meat…James couldn't even name them all. Around him, people chatted happily with friends old and new, some doing trade, others simply catching up on old times. The atmosphere was light hearted, so much so that it pushed any lasting thoughts of a raid out of James' mind.

He glanced around, searching out his father. He found him talking to an odd looking trader in front of a particularly flamboyant stall. The trader looked a lot tougher than the usual wimpy men that took up that way of life. _Well, _James thought, _there is always the odd one out…_

James walked up to his father, patiently waiting for him to finish his conversation. When he was done, he turned to his son, contemplating him with inquisitive eyes.

"What is it, son?" he asked.

"I was just wondering if I could go to Barrow Fields for a little while. I won't be long."

His father looked somewhat uneasy.

"Well, I'd rather you didn't…" he glanced at his son's pleading face, "but, as long as you promise to be careful, I suppose it's alright."

"Thanks dad!" James ran off down the path, but stopped, turning back towards his father, a question on his tongue. But the scene that met his eyes rendered him speechless, and would haunt his dreams for many years to come. In the trader's hand was a thin, glittering object, and both James and his father had noticed a moment to late that it was a dagger. In a flash, the trader had plunged the weapon into his father's stomach. He bent double, choked with pain, and then collapsed, his blood pooling on the ground around him. The trader retrieved his dagger from James' father's body. But it was not a trader; no, it was a bandit, and with a jolt of recognition, James realized it was the large, brutish one he had seen lurking behind the barns. He felt panicky and shocked. Why had no one listened to him? He had been right in thinking the raid would come, and now it had, he was sure of it.

James ran towards the center of the town, hoping to get to his father's body and warn everyone, but found it hard to get through the crowd. In no time, the village was in an uproar. People pushed and shoved to see what was going on, trying to force their way to the front. But their eagerness suddenly turned to panic, as a volley of jet black arrows swiftly flew through the air, striking down several of the villagers. Those still standing immediately ran for cover, trying to barricade themselves in their homes, the shops, and even the barns, anything to save themselves from this new threat. At that moment, dozens of bandits ran out from the bushes and from behind buildings, whooping, yelling and brandishing deadly swords, bows and axes. A few carried flaming torches, and threw them at the houses, laughing insanely as the flammable thatch caught fire. The villagers tried to escape their burning homes, but couldn't out run the wild flames, and were soon consumed by the blazes.

James backed away, his head whipping this was and that. It had all happened so quickly…He turned tail and ran, but instead of passing through the gates to Barrow Fields, he turned up the path and towards the covered bridge. Once there, he peered out over the village, watching with dismay as, building by building, person by person, his village was destroyed. Piercing screams and the raucous yells of the bandits filled the evening air, adding to the horrific seen in front of him.

James tore down the path, desperately wanting to do something, but not knowing what. On his was, he passed Aidan Crowley, who was laying spread eagle on his back, a bloody wound on his chest. _Well, _James thought, _at least some good has come of this raid._

He continued on, sticking to the areas that weren't bandit infested. The screams of pain and fear were only becoming more frequent, scaring James even more. He stopped in front of the barns, which were burnt badly, the walls crumbling in many places. The contents had been stolen, and all that was left were the bodies of some burned villagers. Lying in the dirt, glittering in the dying light of the sun, was James' axe, right where he had left it. He stooped and picked it up, tossing it from one hand to another. This would do nicely.

James heard a rustle in the bushes beside him, and out leapt a bandit, sword raised, a terrible grin on his face. He brought his sword down, but James was too quick, and the rogue missed, his sword driving into the ground. He tugged and pulled, struggling with the weapon, trying to get it out, but it was too late for him. With one mighty swing, James slashed through the man's neck, beheading him and sending him crashing to the ground. James stumbled back in surprise, trying to steady himself. He didn't know he could do _that_. His heart pounded painfully, like a tiny, fluttering bird trying to escape from his body. He took a few deep breaths, and carried on, now more sure of his abilities.

Then, from inside a house, James heard the plaintive cries of a trapped child. He ran to the door, but found it blocked by a body. It was a woman, clearly the mother of the house. She had been stabbed in the stomach, and, as a result, the blood seeped out of her mouth, running down to her ears and giving her the appearance of having a bloody, macabre grin. James shivered. He hated this, all the killing, but one teenage boy could do nothing to stop that.

Trying to avoid the blood, James gingerly moved her body out of the way, stepping into the gloom. Curiously, this house had not even been burnt, unlike the rest of them. The child cried out again, this time sounding closer.

James entered a windowless room, the only light coming from a candle. Huddled in the corner, eyes wide with fear, was a little boy. And he wasn't alone. Standing behind him, bow drawn, was a bandit. James heard scuffling feet behind, and whipped around. Another bandit stood in the doorway, mace raised, poised to strike if need be.

James felt a knot form in his stomach. _A trap, _he thought angrily, _a bloody trap, and I just fell for it. _He stood there, frozen with terror, not knowing what to do. The bandits advanced towards him, and then it suddenly hit James. They weren't going to kill him…only capture him. _He _was the boy the two thugs had been talking about, and so they had lured James into the house, relying on his selflessness and desire to help others to get him here.

They were almost upon him, evil smirks upon their faces, when, suddenly, the bandit in the doorway gave a screech of pain, falling to the ground. His back was seared, all the skin burnt away. Now, standing in the entryway, was the most formidable man James had ever seen. He was aged, but showed no signs of having weakened because of it. He was clothed in a purple cloak, heavy boots and green fingerless gloves. In his hands was an intricately engraved staff. The stranger's face, which was covered in odd, glowing tattoos, bore a serious, yet powerful expression, suggesting that he was somewhat not to be crossed. Judging by the Will he had just used, he was a Mage, and an excellent one at that.

The bandit with the bow cowered, knowing that there was no where to run. Without a word, the man crossed the room and struck down the bandit with ease, as if he had been nothing but a fly. He then turned towards James, who was standing in the middle of the room with a mixed expression of disbelief and trepidation on his face.

"There's no point standing there, looking like you've never seen anyone killed before, boy. Now follow me. We have to get you somewhere safe."

He left through the door, motioning for James to follow. He trailed him reluctantly, upset at having his life turned upside down so quickly. They passed the site of James' father's murder, and the boy hesitated, not wanting to leave so quickly.

"Wait!" he called to the Mage ahead of him, "I need a moment."

The man twisted around, and, seeing the dead body on the ground, understood what was going on. He nodded but said,

"Don't be long. It's not safe here, and the longer we wait, the more likely it is you'll end up dead."

To James, his words seemed somewhat cold, but this wasn't exactly a cheery situation, so he ignored it. He paced up to his fathers prone form, falling to his knees when he laid eyes on him. Tears poured down James' cheeks, and he was glad that the stranger was out of earshot, so that he couldn't hear the poor boy's sobs of despair. In his grieving, he failed to notice yet another bandit sneaking up to him, trying to snatch James away. Nevertheless, this one didn't get close enough, as the Mage sent an arc of lightning in his direction, slaying the outlaw instantly.

"Can't you even watch your own back?" the stranger asked disapprovingly, a frown on his face. "In any case, if you're done, it's time to go. You don't need to bring anything. Just give me your hand."

James stretched out his hand hesitatingly, gripping the Mage's much larger one, and unexpectedly, he felt a tingle go up and down his spine. All around the pair of them, a light blue mist shimmered and flickered, and before he knew it, James was teleported away, to a new home, and a new life…


	4. Chapter 4, part 1

Chapter 4

_A few days before the raid…_

Briar Rose stood on one of the ship's sturdy yardarms, looking out over the glittering sea, one hand shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, the other loosely clasping a thick rope. A gentle, salty breeze blew through her chin length black hair, tugging at her loose tunic and simple sailor's trousers.

She had been sailing on the _SV_ _Archon Castle_ for the past few weeks, along with her mother, father and a crew of 16 able-bodied sailors. It had taken her much begging and persuading to get her aboard the impressive barque, as her father seemed to have issues with young women sailing the dangerous seas that surrounded Albion. Yet during her time on the ship, Briar had proved herself more than capable of doing anything the crew assigned her. From important jobs like navigating the _Archon Castle_ and unfurling the broad sails, down to the smallest jobs like swabbing the deck and polishing the silver, she had been eager to do it all, so long as it meant she was sailing.

Briar looked down at the deck below, observing the crew as they scurried back and forth, carrying out the commands the captain was shouting from the quarterdeck. The skipper was an impressive man whom everybody respected, yet no one dared cross. He stood at the helm, his sharp eyes trained on the horizon, scanning out rebellious pirate ships and deadly squalls, all the while keeping track of the crew. Briar's parents were below decks in the fo'c'sle, no doubt trying to avoid the sun. No body paid her any mind; they had forgotten about the slight girl standing among the sails, so absorbed were they in their work._ Time for some fun_, she thought, grinning to herself. Earlier in the day, while the crew was on a short break, she had noticed some of the men had taken to flipping off the yardarms backwards, plunging into the deep sea below, then hauling themselves, soaking wet, onto the main deck, only to clamber up the rigging and do it all over again. This obviously was their idea of fun, and to her, it sure looked it. Briar Rose had wanted to join in on the merriment, but her parents were watching, sensing her intentions, and she wasn't in the mood to get into a row with them over something like that. Now however, with no one watching her, she was free to do as she wanted.

Standing with her back to the water, Briar took a deep breath in, and then vaulted herself off the yardarm, arching backwards and throwing her arms out to steady her flip. She plummeted through the brackish air, relishing the feeling of freefalling. The sensation was cut short however, when, abruptly, Briar splashed into the briny deep, resurfacing seconds later. Using one of the bulky ropes left hanging over the deck's edge, she heaved herself up onto the _Archon Castle_, shaking sparkling water droplets from her clothes and hair. Now she understood why the crew members enjoyed doing it so much. The feeling of freedom it gave was like no other! But then, straining her ears, Briar heard the sound of her father's deep voice coming up from the fo'c'sle, getting closer, and in a flurry of activity, she scuttled up one of the ratlines, hiding behind the main upper topsail. Her father, thankfully, had not noticed her, and Briar relaxed, slumping into one of the many shrouds that hung like hammocks from the yardarms. Something, however, seemed wrong. She felt the hairs go up on the back of her neck, and the wind, which before had been so pleasant, seemed to take on a chilling, threatening air. Deep in her soul, Briar felt a terrible pain that made her want to scream with insanity. Briar was confused, not understanding what it was. And then, with a sinking heart and chill in her bones, she realized what it was. Pirates. The Pirates of the Black Brethren. An elite band of buccaneers, only they had the power to instil such a terrifying feeling in the souls of every man and woman who sailed the sea. Few ever escaped their attacks, and those lucky few who weren't slaughtered were press ganged into slavery for them.

Briar opened her mouth to warn the crew, but found herself unable to utter a word. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. The rest of the crew had sensed the Pirates of the Black Brethren's presence as well, and had frozen on the spot, all jobs forgotten. Even Captain Rigel Drummond, who never seemed to become distracted, stood in terror, his duties oblivious to him now.

As if coming out of trance, Briar suddenly returned to her senses. The rest of the ship was coming to as well, and all of the sudden, the deck became a confusion of voices and bodies; sailors shouting across the barque to one another, weapons being tossed to every man jack, and men chanting "two, six, heave!" as they struggled to hoist the anchor. It had been a bad idea to lay anchor in the middle of the sea, regardless of whether the crew needed a rest. Briar silently slid down one of the rat lines, searching around for any discarded weapons. There was no way she was going to be left defenceless. If she had to die, she'd die fighting.

Briar spotted an abandoned cutlass, wedged into the mizzenmast. With a huge effort, she tugged it out, falling backwards against the railing. Picking herself up, Briar looked around, noticing her father readying himself with nothing but a simple cutlass and a marlinespike, all the while trying to convince his wife to go below decks. Her mother refused, Briar assumed, judging by the obstinate look on her face; one that Briar herself had inherited.

An eerie silence settled over the _Archon Castle_, and Briar could sense the tenseness of everyone on the barque. Feet shuffled uncomfortably, and the odd dry cough could be heard. There was nothing they could do but wait for the inevitable. Suddenly, the bo'sun, who had quietly crept up the rigging, gave a cry of alarm. Everybody's eyes travelled to where he was pointing with a trembling finger. Along the starboard side, a group of vicious, ragged looking pirates was pulling itself over the _Archon Castle_'s railing, cutlasses and knives clenched in their rotting teeth, axes on their backs. The crew backed away, but found themselves cut off by more pirates boarding from the port side. They were trapped, hemmed in on both sides by the rogues. But the captain refused to see his ship be taken so easily, and with a mighty roar, he drew his naval sabre, brandishing it in the air for all to see. All at once, the rest of the crew sprang into action, eager to defend the _SV Archon Castle_. At the same time, the pirates threw themselves at the crew. With a deafening sound, the two parties clashed, steel clanging against steel, cries of rage and pain ensuing.

Briar recklessly plunged into the fray, avoiding deadly blows from both sides, keeping a sharp eye out for any pirates who might come her way. Unexpectedly, a hand grabbed her roughly by the hair, pulling her head backwards and exposing her throat. She winced in pain and fear, realizing the pirate holding her down intended to slit her throat. He raised his knife, preparing to strike, but Briar was quicker. Flipping the cutlass in her grip, she jabbed it backwards, running the man through. He collapsed onto the deck, a prone form among the mass of confused, agitated bodies. Briar stepped back from his body, surprised by what she had done. She didn't think herself capable of _that_. But she shook the thought from her head, knowing it could cost her her life if she was distracted.

Beside her, another pirate fell to the blade of one of the crewmen, and farther ahead, on the quarter deck, Rigel Drummond fought off two particularly fierce looking pirates. Her parents were no where to be seen, but Briar Rose wasn't worried about them right now.

Another pirate took a swing at her, but she parried his blow, knocking his blade to the side. Without hesitating, she slashed at his chest, felling him easily. Another rogue came up behind her, whipping a thick, knotted rope at her head. Briar ducked, and kicked his legs out from under him. Before he could rise, she smashed his face with the hilt of her cutlass, knocking him out. Briar dragged him unceremoniously to the edge of the deck, hauling him over the railing and tossing him into the swirling, angry waves below. She did not stay long enough to see him hit the water, however, because another problem soon became evident. The captain, who was right in the middle of the fray, fighting valiantly, had left the wheel unguarded. As such, no one was holding the ship steady, and she was steering off course. With a sinking feeling, Briar remembered the charts she had been viewing not but a few hours previously with Captain Drummond. Straight ahead was a seamount, those volcanic ridges that grew up from the bottom of the sea floor and posed a threat for any ship that came across one. If the _SV Archon Castle_ struck it, she'd be sure to sink.

Briar sprinted to the quarterdeck where the wheel was situated, shoving people out of the way, whether they were friend or foe. Standing in front of the wheel, she grasped it, one hand on top, the other two thirds of the way around, and spun it with all her might, letting the wheel slide under her grasp. It spun all the way around, stopping when Briar clamped down hard. The barque lurched violently to one side, her bow pointing away from the seamount. The sudden movement, however, had sent everyone aboard flying, only to fall, groaning in pain, against the port side railing. Yet Briar feared it wasn't enough, that she had been too late. She shut her eyes tight, clinging on to the wheel, expecting the terrible feeling of the hull being ripped apart by the seamount to knock her off her feet and send her to her doom…but nothing happened. The _SV Archon Castle_ continued to sail peacefully along, as if nothing had ever occurred.

With a glowing feeling of pride, Briar Rose realized she had just saved the crew from what certainly would have been the end of them all. The pirates, nevertheless, were still a problem. Everyone was still struggling to their feet, except Briar, who had used the helm to stay steady. Using this to her advantage, she tore down the stairs, picking up a sabre at the foot of the steps. The pirate closest to her was still pulling himself to his feet, using the balustrade for support. With a deft stroke, Briar hacked at his back, sending him flying over the edge into the deadly sea below. A few of her crewmates had managed to drag themselves up from the floor, and began doing the same, lashing out at the pirates, and then shoving them into the water. By the time everybody else had managed to stand up, the pirates were badly outnumbered, some having fallen during the scrimmage, some having succumbed to being thrown overboard. The pirates, realizing they stood no chance, abandoned ship, diving into the sea before the crew members could stop them. So much for the fierce Pirates of the Black Brethren. But it hardly mattered. They had won. For the first time in history, the Pirates of the Black Brethren had been defeated. All at once, the crew gave a great cheer, throwing hats, bandanas, shirts-anything at all-into the air in celebration. They would be hailed as heroes for years to come, and they knew it.

The crew crowded around Briar Rose, congratulating her on saving them from certain death, but she wasn't listening. All she saw was her father, crouched over the prone figure of her mother. With a tight feeling in her throat and tears filling her eyes, she stumbled across the deck to where her parents were. Briar's father kneeled on the deck, clinging on to her mother, talking to her and trying to revive her, but to no avail. She was dead and lost to them forever. She had struck her head on a sharp edge of the railing, and it had punctured her temple, killing her instantly. Suddenly, Briar felt sick. If she hadn't manoeuvred the ship so violently, this would never have happened. But if she hadn't done anything, they would all have been dead. Nevertheless, it did nothing to calm Briar's feeling of self blame. She felt like a huge piece of herself had been torn out suddenly and violently, leaving her cold and empty and filled with anguish. This shouldn't have happened, and it was all her fault. _No it's not_, a little voice said in the back of her mind, _it was an accident. How could you have known this would happen? _But Briar pushed that thought from her mind, angry at herself for trying to find an excuse. All around her, the happy mood of the crew, the joking, laughing and joyous feelings seemed obscene and separate from her; it seemed to be a different world all together. She felt numb, disjointed from reality.

Her father ignored her, shunned her, silently blaming her for the death of his dear wife. His quiet anger and blame was too much for her to bear. Briar stood up, and, tears streaming down her face, fled towards the fo'c'sle, wanting nothing more than to be alone…


	5. Chapter 4, part 2

_That same evening, after the attack…_

Briar sat quietly on the top most yardarm, her back against the foremast, one leg drawn up to her knee, the other dangling freely over the edge. The entire day had been an absolute mess, first with the pirate's raid, then the death of her mother. Her father had not said a word to her all day, still furious with her over what had happened. Briar now dreaded arriving back in Bowerstone North, where her family lived. She'd have to put up with her father then, and wouldn't be able to avoid him. She stared sadly off into the clear blue sky, trying to push all the terrible thoughts and emotions from her mind.

So preoccupied was she that she didn't hear the sound of the first mate, Azmyth, clamber skilfully up the ratline to where she sat, sitting himself down comfortably next to her. Azmyth had been first mate of the _SV Archon Castle_ since her maiden voyage, despite his young age. He was tall and lean, with messy, brown dreadlocks and an odd red tattoo that ran the length of his arm. His hands and feet were badly calloused from years of climbing the rigging. Briar always thought he looked remarkably like a pirate, but refrained from telling him so, knowing it would hurt his pride in his appearance. For a long while, the two of them simply sat there in silence, watching as the setting sun cast brilliant hues of red, orange and yellow across the cloudless sky. Then, Azmyth finally spoke up.

"I hope you're not going to blame yourself for what happened today," he said gently, no trace of anger in his voice at all.

Briar blinked in surprise. Why wasn't he angry with her? He had every right to be, after all. Earlier in the day, after the pirate attack, Azmyth had been ordering the crew around, as the Captain was occupied with other things. He had asked Briar to set the upper topsails, as they were planning to change course, heading to land. Briar, still in a furious mood and not feeling like work, had finally snapped.

"Set your own goddamn upper topsails!" she had said angrily. After a short row between the two of them, Briar had ended up setting the upper topsails after all.

She tore herself from her thoughts, coming back to the present.

"Too late for that, I've already blamed myself. It was my fault after all; I should never have steered the ship so violently. Besides, it doesn't matter whether I've blamed myself or not; it's my dad I have to worry about. He's decided it was my fault and there's nothing anyone can do to change that."

"It's not your fault, the whole crew agrees with that. They would have done the exact same thing in your place, and many of them have had years of experience. And as for your father, I'd say he needs to smarten up. No one deserves to be treated the way he's treating you."

He paused, and then said,

"The Captain wants us to set the upper topsails again."

Briar didn't respond. She simply watched as the sun finally disappeared behind distant the horizon. All that could be heard were the waves lapping up against the wooden hull of the ship as she made progress towards the main land. After a stretch of silence, Azmyth spoke up again.

"I say he should set his own goddamn upper topsails."

_The evening of the raid on Oakvale, in Bowerstone North…_

Briar sat at her redwood desk, reading a large, leather bound book entitled _The Heroes Guild_, a book about the whole history of the Guild to date. She had spent the days since she had been home hidden in her room, absorbed in her books, carefully avoiding her father, and only joining him for silent meals, in which neither of them uttered a word. Her father was _still_ furious with her, but she tried her hardest to ignore him, although on the odd occasion, she did snap at him or throw a sarcastic comment his way, only rendering him even more livid.

It was evening, and the sky was the darkest of blacks, only broken up by the flakes of soft, cold snow that fluttered and tumbled from the sky. It seemed like right after Briar's voyage, the weather had changed dramatically, as it often did in Albion. At first, the weather had been warm, as it usually was in fall in this country, but then the next day it had turned a bitter cold, accompanied by a short snow fall. Just as Briar looked up to admire the glittering snow, her father burst into her room, clearly in a rage.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL IN YOUR ROOM, READING THOSE BLASTED BOOKS?" he roared, making Briar cringe and shrink back. "Your mother's dead, and we're trying to plan her funeral! But all you can do is hole yourself up in your room, and not bother to help! Typical, just typical! Can't even look beyond your own nose!"

"But, father…I was just…I didn't think…"

"Of course you didn't think! You never do, do you?" he yelled, even more furious now.

Briar felt the jab at her pride and intelligence sting her emotionally. She thought a lot, being quite an bright young woman, but she didn't dare voice that notion.

"You know what? I've had enough of this! First you kill my beloved wife, then you spurn her memory by not even helping with the funeral, and on top of that, you insist upon being moody and insolent! And I won't stand for it anymore! You're leaving this house, and I don't want to ever see your sorry face near this place again! Have I made myself clear?"

Briar sat in absolute shock, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. Kick her out? How could he do such a thing to his own daughter? She felt numb and lost. Where would she go? Briar was the child of a noble man, not some street urchin. She wouldn't be able to survive…

Taking her silence and shock as a sign of resistance, Briar's father grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and proceeded to drag her out of her room and towards the wide front door. She kicked and protested, drawing concerned looks from the maids and menservants that strode down the halls, going about their business. Her father wrenched open the front door, throwing her down on the snowy cobblestones roughly, slamming the door shut before Briar could even rise to her feet. When she did, she threw herself at the door, screaming and crying to be let back in. Why had he done that? She didn't deserve this kind of treatment, no human did. But in that instant, Briar realized that this was the true nature of things, the true nature of human beings. She had been falsely led to believe that the world was a fairly kind place, and that, no matter the hardships, everything would eventually be okay. How wrong she had been. The world, clearly, was a cruel place, and she should have known that. It was naïve to believe otherwise, she reasoned.

Briar slid to the ground, sobbing. The sorrow of the past few days was just to much to bear. She crouched on the freezing cobbles, weeping even harder, as the snow drifted and swirled and danced around her, blending Briar into the cold night air ,erasing her from the memories of her father…


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

James shivered in the freezing evening air, arms crossed firmly over his chest, teeth chattering madly, almost comically. Snow fell gently on his bare arms and legs, giving him gooseflesh. It had been snowing since the beginning of the raid, but James had been too distraught by the sudden death of his father, and later, his abrupt removal from home, that he hadn't even noticed.

The Mage standing beside him seemed not to notice the cold, or the snow. He simply stood there, as if waiting for something. For a minute it looked as if he might say something, but it was clearly just James' imaginings. He looked around, taking note of a strange, large statue in front of him. One stony arm was extended, almost as if pointing a traveller towards the Heroes Guild. _Or maybe pointing _me_ towards it_, thought James with a chill.

Just as James was about to open his mouth to ask the stranger what was going on, the man spoke up in his deep voice.

"Where I am about to take you is called the Heroes Guild, although I am sure you have already heard of it."

James nodded silently. His father had told him many stories about the Guild ever since his narration of the Tale of Quickblade.

"There, you will train to become a Hero, should you prove worthy to stay with us. My name is Maze, by the way, and I'm the head of the Heroes Guild. However, I won't be taking you there straight away, as I have something to attend to, which must be done before getting you settled in at the Guild. I won't be long, but you need to _stay here_ and not go anywhere."

James stared at him incredulously. First, he drags him away from his home, and then he expects him to sit here in the freezing cold? He couldn't believe it. Yet before he could protest, Maze had disappeared in that strange blue haze, slowly fading from view until he was no more.

James stood there for a moment, before recalling there were four benches that surrounded the statue, each one perfectly positioned on each of the cardinal points. He dropped himself down onto one and buried his head in his hands, finally having time to think about all that had happened today. Why did this have to happen to him? He was nothing but a simple village boy, who had done nothing to deserve losing his father and his home. At the thought of his father, James felt tears well up in his eyes. But then he remembered what his father had said to him once, when someone had deeply hurt his feelings and he wanted nothing more than to hide away.

"In the face of adversity, you must continue nonetheless," he had stated.

James knew that it would be a disgrace to his father's memory by moping around, doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself. He immediately felt shameful, understanding that this was one of those times his father would want him to continue on, despite the hardships. James wiped the tears from his eyes, taking a steadying breath to calm himself. Nothing more to do now than to wait for Maze's return. He leaned back against the bench, gazing up at the star filled sky, lingering on the familiar memories of home.

The cold wind whipped about Briar's face, pulling thin strands of black hair across her face. She stood at the edge of a precipitous cliff that overlooked the angry, steel coloured sea. It seemed to reflect the feelings she had inside, almost as if it knew the hardships she had been through.

Right now, however, she left her mind a blank, simply staring bitterly off to the horizon. The full moon that night had made it easy for Briar to find her way through the city, and out of the gates. She had decided at the moment of her abandonment that she would not stay in Bowerstone at all, and, if she had to, she'd travel until she found someplace where she could settle. For now though, all she wanted was to be alone, and have some time to not have to think about anything, not have to feel anything except the wind on her face and the snow on her skin.

Suddenly, Briar felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she had the horrible feeling that she was no longer alone. She whipped around, ready to defend herself. There was no need to, of course, when she saw who it was.

Standing right in front of her, his light blue eyes shining in the moonlight, was Maze. Although they weren't on particularly personal terms, she had spoken to him occasionally while he was in the city for various important causes concerning the Guild. There could be only one reason why he was here now. He wanted to drag her off to the Guild to train to be a Hero, exactly the opposite of what she wanted to do.

Briar clenched her fists, trying to suppress her anger. Why did adults have to always control her life? She wasn't ready to be surrounded by people just yet. Briar wanted nothing more than a break from it all. Maze, however, seemed to have other plans.

"You probably already know why I am here, and before you even open your mouth to object, I need you to listen. What you are surely planning on doing is much too dangerous. I have lived in Albion long enough to know that trying to find your place in the world at your age would be the worst decision you could make. The only place it will get you is laying dead in an alley with a dagger in your back, mark my words. It would be wise to come with me, where you can find safe haven at the Guild."

Briar scowled, knowing he was right and hating him all the more for it. His bluntness, however, shocked her. It was hardly making her feel any better, yet it got the point across. She realized it was stupid of her to think that she could survive on her own in this cruel world. Her mind suddenly made up, she unclenched her fists and gave a sigh of defeat.

"Very well then," Briar muttered, "I'll come. But I'm not saying I'll enjoy it."

"Well, that's your choice to make, not mine, "he responded, extending his hand to her, "Now take my hand and we can depart."

Briar did just that, grasping his hand and disappearing in the odd blue mist that came about when teleporting.

The pair reappeared far away from the sea, next to an odd, pointing statue. Briar suddenly realized that she was not at the Guild, as promised, but at Lookout Point. Standing right in front of her, looking both surprised and annoyed, was a scrawny peasant boy. This was too much. What was he doing here? Surely he wasn't going to be training with her…

James stared incredulously at the girl who now stood next to Maze, a somewhat disdainful expression spread across her otherwise pretty face. _This _was why Maze left him in the freezing cold? So he could go fetch some snobby, spoiled brat from Bowerstone North, when it could have waited until tomorrow? For a second time that night, James was dumbfounded.

Despite the disdain, she seemed shell-shocked herself, and very upset too. Wasn't she happy to be coming to the Guild? Or maybe she was displeased at being dragged away from a life of luxury. Either way, it didn't matter to James. This night was turning out to be a nightmare, and he very much disliked it.

"Now, as I am sure you two have figured out, you will be training together at the Heroes Guild. But before either of you complain, I would like for the two of you to swallow your tongues and listen. Both of you have been through terrible ordeals, that much is true." Briar and James looked at each other, scepticism plain on their faces. "However, that does not mean you two are free to rip each other to shreds over it. I don't care if you come from different social classes; at the Guild, everyone is treated equal and we expect to keep it that way. So please, don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be."

At the same time, Briar and James opened their mouths to protest, but Maze, yet again, cut them across, knowing their intentions.

"Good Lord, I can tell this is going to be interesting having you two training together," he remarked. "I'm almost wondering whether we'll have to keep you separate from each other after all."

And with that, he turned towards the path leading to the Heroes Guild, where the statue was pointing. Briar and James followed him, both of their minds troubled. They passed an odd, twisted looking tree, with peculiar runes inscribed in red ink scrawled over its aged bark.

Maze stopped abruptly, pausing just past the tree, looking up the path. Briar and James came to a halt as well, staring in wonder at the immense building standing before them. High stone walls stretched far away in either direction, and beyond the ramparts, lofty towers touched the sky. Beautiful stained glass windows reflected the gentle moonlight, and two broad oaken doors guarded the entrance to the edifice, the symbol of the Guild emblazoned on each one. Maze gave the two of them a few minutes to observe, and then led them towards the massive doors.

"This, as you can see, is the Guild," he began, "you'll be safe here, as it is near impossible for anyone to gain entrance without permission. I'll introduce you to the Guildmaster, and then we will get you settled in."

He pushed open one of the massive doors, leading them through the entrance. James felt the immediate relief of heat and security. Inside, the walls were made of stone as well, as were the floors, yet with the warm light cast from the candles flickering in their brackets, and the soft murmur of countless voices, the Guild seemed as comfortable as James' own home. He didn't care at all what the girl standing next to him thought…all he knew now was that he was extremely tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep. James sighed gently, almost inaudibly. Maybe he would like it here after all. Yet his thoughts were interrupted by Maze once again.

"I am going to leave you two here while I go get the Guildmaster," he said, "And while I am gone, try not to tear each other apart."

And with that, he departed through an arched doorway, leaving them in the massive, empty hall. Yet James didn't feel completely alone. All around him, people chatted and laughed in rooms he couldn't see, all of them clearly getting ready for a good night's rest. To think that he would soon be joining them…

s


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Maze knocked firmly on the wizened door, sighing with impatience. The Guildmaster clearly wasn't the quickest chap in the world. Finally, however, the old man opened his study door, peering out into the gloomy hallway.

"Oh, it's you, Maze," he exclaimed, "I thought for a moment you might have been another one of those annoying guards complaining about the apprentices again."

"No, I finally cleared up that problem today…at any rate, that's not why I'm here. We have two new students waiting in the map room for you. I thought it best if you saw them before we except them into the Guild."

The Guildmaster raised his eyebrows, but said no more. He silently followed Maze down the broad hallway, until the map room was in view. The two young people standing in it, arms crossed, turn away from each other, were the picture of sadness. They bore looks of loss upon their faces, yet spoke not a word, nor even looked up when the two men entered. Only when Maze cleared his throat to speak did they acknowledge their presence.

"This is the Guildmaster," Maze announced, motioning to the aged man standing beside him. "He will be your guide when I'm not around or unable to help you." He spoke as though Briar and James were already being inducted into the Heroes Guild, yet all he was doing was giving the Guildmaster time to get a good look at the youths and decide if they were worthy or not.

Finally, the Guildmaster gave a surreptitious nod to Maze.

"They both look a little too thin, if you ask me, but I suppose they'll do," he sighed.

Briar's face darkened at his words. She clearly did not like being called too skinny, yet she didn't utter a word. James, on the other hand, looked completely unconcerned. He had known he was to scrawny all his life, yet it he did nothing to fix it. He had simply grown to except that fact.

"Maze, why don't you get these two settled in the dormitories upstairs?" the Guildmaster suggested, "I believe we have two beds left."

"Very well," said Maze, dipping his tattooed head. He turned towards the two youths, "Follow me, and we'll make you two comfortable."

He made his way up a set of graceful, curving stairs, a flight on each side of the massive map. Without hesitating, Briar and James followed, trudging up the steps after him. James looked back just in time to see the Guildmaster disappear down a side hallway, back to his study.

Once at the top, Maze directed them into a side room, set apart from the other dormitories. Two beds were positioned beside the walls; one just inside the door, the other across the room, underneath a fine-looking stained glass window. Huge bookshelves, crammed with heavy volumes, occupied the rest of the empty wall space. Briar's face seemed to lighten a bit at the sight of the books, but it didn't entirely replace her sorrow.

"This is where you will be sleeping," Maze explained, gesturing around the room, "I understand that right now, you two probably don't want to be in close proximity with each other, but you'll get over that." He paused, and then spoke again. "Has either of you had anything to eat lately?"

They both shook their heads. Neither had even given any thought to food, James because of the raid and Briar because of her recent displacement from home.

"Very well, then. Follow me down to the dining hall, and we'll get you something to eat."

They followed Maze back down the stairs, past the topographical map and into the dining hall. Immediately, the smells of warm bread baking and fresh herbs floated up to greet them. Now it was James' turn to feel somewhat better. The scents reminded him so much of home that it almost hurt. Maze strode up to the bar and spoke to a rotund man with a bald head and moustache.

"Alistair, it wouldn't be too much trouble to get these two something to eat, would it?" Maze inquired. "They haven't had anything all evening."

"No, no problem at all!" Alistair beamed, setting down a tankard he had just been cleaning with a rag. "I'll be glad to feed 'em."

"Excellent," Maze sighed, looking grateful, "I have a few things to attend to, but I'll come and check on them in a little while." And with that, he paced away, leaving Briar and James with Alistair.

"So wha' will you kids be wantin' this evenin'?" Alistair asked cheerfully in a thick accent.

They both shrugged, and James spoke up.

"Anything will be fine sir," he said, sounding somewhat weary.

"Could we possibly have something warm to drink?" Briar ventured, sounding equally tired herself.

Alistair nodded, motioning for them to sit down. "Just relax you two. I'll have something ready in a bit."

They each took seats as far away from each other as possible, silent as ever. After a while, James began rapping the ends of his fingers on the rough grained wood of the long table, but ceased when Briar shot him a venomous look. He sighed and contented himself with looking around, noting another odd statue, this one of a woman with both arms extended, as if ready to embrace someone. He came back to his thoughts when Alistair set a plate and mug in front of him.

"Eat up, lad," he said, smiling gently, "You look like you really need it."

James nodded and wordlessly began eating. It tasted delicious; again, just like home. He glanced over at Briar, who had just received her meal as well, yet she wasn't touching it. James wrinkled his brow in worry. Why wasn't she eating? Surely she'd be hungry enough to do so…Yet James shrugged away the thought, and continued with his meal until he was finished. He then picked up the mug and peered inside it. Hot spiced apple cider, which he knew was only made in Oakvale. He wrapped his hands around the mug and sipped some of the warm, spicy liquid, and let it run down his throat. Yet it somehow didn't feel right. Every other time he had had this drink, it was with his father, laughing, having a good time. Now however, he wasn't there…James was once again filled with an empty feeling.

Maze looked up from his journal and set his quill down, gazing out through the window at the dancing snow and the large, luminous moon. He sighed and decided to go check on Briar and James, hoping the two weren't fighting. Maze got up from his desk, and stowed the journal safely away in one of its drawers. He strode to the door, pulled it open, and continued on towards the dining hall. He was about to step out into the open, but held back, wanting to observe Briar and James for a moment.

He watched the boy, who was clutching his mug in his hands, a grim expression on his face. He shivered as though cold, but Maze knew better than that. It wasn't a physical cold, not even close. It was a spirit numbing cold, one that pierced the soul and was only brought on by the loss of a loved one. Maze had felt it himself, many times before. He wanted to comfort the boy, but couldn't seem to find the words to do so. Maze sighed, turning away from the painful sight.

Instead, he turned to Briar Rose, who was sitting as far away from James as she possibly could. She simply sat there, ignoring her drink and food, staring down at her feet with a look of anger, agony and misery on her face. Briar had barely uttered a word since she had gotten there. Neither of them had, when Maze thought about it. He paused, knowing now was not the time to have any important discussions with them. Probably best just to send them to bed and talk with them when they felt better. He stepped out of the shadows, calling out theirs names to get their attention…

James sat on his comfortable bed beneath the stained glass window, patting the rust red comforter with the palm of his hand. He looked around the dormitory, his eyes finally resting on Briar Rose. She was scanning the book shelves, running her fingers along the spines of the books until her hand fell upon one that appealed to her. She tugged it off the shelf, returning to her bed and sitting down cross legged with the book in her lap, settling down to read under the guttering candle attached to the wall. James took the opportunity to observe his new fellow apprentice properly. Briar had short, black hair and wind burnt skin, tanned from too much exposure to the sun. Her dark blue eyes were somewhat hidden behind a pair of round, wire rimmed glasses. Briar's slim frame was bent over her book, so absorbed was she in it.

"Look, James, or whatever your name is, would you mind keeping your eyes on something other than myself? I really dislike it when people stare at me, you know," Briar said angrily and unexpectedly, without even looking up from her book.

James was taken aback. How did she even know that he was watching her? She had had her nose buried in the book the whole time…

"You know, most girls don't mind getting stared at," James ventured carefully, "They welcome the attention."

"Well, I'm not like most girls, now am I?" she snapped, finally looking up from her book.

"I suppose not," James said, starting to feel a little annoyed. He was trying to be nice, and all she could do was get mad. "Look, I know you've been through a hard time, but so have I, so we should try and get through this together."

Briar looked back up at him, pulling off her glasses and giving him a pitying look.

"You really are as stupid as you look, aren't you?" she inquired, as if they were having a casual conversation. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't feel like talking. I'm almost certain that anything you've been through is nowhere near as bad as what I have, so leave me alone, and go back to staring something, so long as it's not me."

James clenched his fists, furious at her words. She really was just as arrogant as all the other people that came from Bowerstone North.

"I hardly doubt you just had your village destroyed, your father killed in front of you, and then, on top of that, having to get dragged away from your home without any say!" he yelled, not being able to control himself anymore. "You snobs from Bowerstone North just don't get what it's like! It must be so terrible to have to come from a life of luxury to stay with us mortals! What was it, hmm? Daddy dearest didn't feel like wasting precious gold on his child? Or was it that your parents couldn't stand your bad attitude any more?" He took a few deep, furious breaths, trying to steady himself.

"My mother's dead, and my father kicked me out because it was his belief that it was my fault, actually," Briar whispered hoarsely, tears glittering in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back, slamming her book shut. "But it's obvious that you're not going to believe me, seeing as I'm just a snob from Bowerstone North, and you country folk don't seem to think that we're capable of suffering too."

With that, Briar got up angrily, letting the book drop to the floor with a thud. She disappeared through the doorway at a brisk pace before James could do or say anything. He strode over to the doorway, poking his head through. The other apprentices, woken by their fight, were sitting up in bed, rubbing their eyes and looking around blearily, some demanding in angry voices as to what was going on. Briar was nowhere to be seen. James ran back to the window, figuring that she might have gone outside, but she wasn't there. He sat back down on his bed, feeling worse than ever. He didn't mean any of what he had said. James had let his emotions get the better of him, and had hurt Briar because of it. What would his father say? At the thought of that, James felt even more ashamed. How would he fix this? James walked over to Briar's bed and picked up the book she had been reading, entitled "Rigging and Other Sailor Skills". It seemed an odd choice of book for a fourteen year old girl. James sighed. His first night here and he was already causing trouble…

Briar sat curled at the base of an ancient oak, the branches overhead shadowing her from the rest of the world. She was all alone in the silent forest, not a soul to be seen or heard. Thinking back on the row with James, and how it would have never happened if she had simply not followed Maze, she vowed to never put her trust in someone like that again. It had only caused her trouble thus far. Briar groaned, burying her head in her hands. She needed to think straight. Running away like that, without thinking, was stupid, and unlike her.

Briar sat there for a while, trying to collect her thoughts, when a strange feeling crept over her. She had been here before…or, more truthfully, she had seen herself in this very place, thinking these very thoughts, yet it had been in a dream, conceived so long ago that the reverie had become blurred, reduced now to nothing but obscure wisps of thought lurking in the darkest corners of her mind…and with a cold realization, Briar become conscious of the fact that it had been no dream. It had been a vision, and she had seen something that was to be, and now was occurring. But that meant that she…Briar pushed the thought from her mind. It was nothing but a coincidence, sheer luck that it had happened. Only witches and mages possessed the power to see into the future, and she certainly wasn't either of those. Briar clutched at her hair, panic flooding through her. What would happen if she had more dreams like this, yet they were terrible events? A chill shot through Briar that had nothing to do with the frigid night air. Somewhere nearby, a warbler sang its bubbly song, momentarily distracting Briar from her dark thoughts. She took a deep breath in, calming herself down. She was overreacting, and that was all. Briar had to stop, to control her emotions. Closing her eyes, she leant back against the ancient oak. Slowly, in the gloom of the forest, Briar became drowsy, her head nodding as she drifted asleep. Her thoughts and feelings became cloudy and hazy as her tiredness overtook her, and finally, Briar fell unconscious, slumping to the ground with a soft thud.

_Everything was eerily quiet all around, the snow swirling and shimmering, falling gracefully onto the already snow filled landscape. Here and there, patches of dark, glimmering ice dotted the ground and hung from dead trees in the form of elegant icicles. Somewhere in the distance, the steady rhythm of waves lapping up onto the shore could be heard. In the middle of the barren landscape stood Briar Rose. She looked around, taking in the scenery, not knowing where she was. She took a few hesitant steps forward, wary of this strange and alien place. Something wasn't right about the stillness, about the stifling silence. She continued to walk forward slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the land, watching for any dangers. Briar wandered on, until she came to a wide space before the dark mouth of an immense cavern. In the middle of the space was a pile of what appeared to be huge ice crystals. She took another step towards it, and, with a deafening roar, the pile erupted, and a huge ice troll grew up out of the frozen ground. Briar shrieked, stumbling backwards-_

Briar abruptly pushed herself off the floor of the forest, suddenly realizing the she was screaming out loud. She stopped, arms wrapped around herself, gasping for air. With eyes shut tight, her mind reeled. That surely had to be another vision…although she hoped dearly that it was just a dream, and nothing else. Then Briar realized that someone was lurking in the bushes behind her, for she heard a faint sound of dry branches rustling. She twisted around, bewildered, and saw James step out from behind the shrubbery. Her face immediately darkened, and Briar opened her mouth to tell him to go away, but before she could, he spoke up.

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me, or even be near me right now, but it just didn't seem right, leaving you out here all alone because of my loud mouth," James said carefully, clearly trying to choose the right words. He paused, and then continued, "I'm really sorry about what I said. I didn't mean any of it; I was just so angry and confused. But that's no excuse though; it hardly gives me the right to vent my emotions on you. I'm not surprised you reacted the way you did." He stopped, waiting for her response.

Briar turned her back to James, silently observing the newly risen moon, its ghostly face staring down at them. She didn't say a word for a long while. Then she spoke, her voice so soft that James could barely hear it.

"How did you know where to find me?" After such a long pause, James had expected a longer answer, but he answered the query nonetheless.

"Maze told me. He hadn't seen you leave the Guild; he just seemed to know." James didn't bother to ask Briar how she knew where to go; he sensed he wouldn't have gotten a response anyway.

"Did he send you?" she asked, still refusing to face him.

"No, I came of my own accord. I just asked him if he knew where you were."

There was an awkward silence following James' response. Then, with a sigh, Briar stood up, turning around to face James full on. She appraised him with her blue eyes, tipping her head slightly, causing the moonlight to glance off her glasses.

"Well, I suppose you can't be all that bad if you came all the way out here just to say sorry. Very few would bother to do so," Briar said, although she still eyed him somewhat distrustfully.

James relaxed a bit. At least this time she had given him a fairly kind response, without a raised voice.

"We should head back," James suggested, trying to find a more comfortable subject, "We need our rest, since we'll have to be up early in the morning to begin our training."

Briar nodded wearily, stepping past him and padding quietly down the narrow, winding trail that led back to the Guild. The trees' shadows cast by the pearly moonlight seemed to claw at the pair like crooked hands, and as they progressed, a light breeze arose, sending dead leaves whispering over their feet.

Soon, Briar and James emerged from the forest, striding across the dark lawns of the Guild, over the stone bridge that spanned the chalk stream, and past the four solemn graves of the brave Heroes that had died long ago. In no time, they were back up in their warm dorm room. The pair collapsed onto their beds, not even bothering to change into the night clothes the Guild had supplied for them. With a heavy sigh, Briar let sleep claim her for a second time that night, drifting into a dreamless slumber, as far above, the stars and moon kept watch over the land, the ethereal sentinels in the infinite, ink black sky.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

James awoke, slowly forcing his eyes open. A thousand jewel bright colours danced across him, cast by the weak winter light of dawn as it shone through the stained glass window. He pushed himself up, looking around blearily as he stretched his arms skyward. Briar was already up, reading another book, this one bigger than the last.

"The Guildmaster will be expecting us down by the melee ring soon, so I suggest you make yourself look halfway presentable," she said by way of greeting, without looking up at him.

James grunted a barely comprehensible "fine" and heaved himself out of bed, running his hands through his hair. Noticing that Briar already seemed to be cleaned up and tidied, he inquired as to where the bathhouse was, figuring she'd know.

"Down the stairs and to your right, past the Guild dining hall," was all she said, this time briefly flicking her eyes up to his face. She paused, "And I suggest you hurry. It wouldn't make a very good impression to show up late."

James nodded and trudged past her, heading down the stairs and coming out into the map room. He noticed many of the other apprentices were already up, most of them heading to the library for some early morning studying. They barely acknowledged him, only momentarily glancing at him before looking away. James continued on, past the dining hall with its delicious smells, and soon found himself at the bathhouse. He entered, realizing that it would probably do him some good to clean himself up. At least it would make him feel better.

Finally all clean, with a fresh change of clothes, James returned to his dorm room, fully awake and ready to begin training. Briar glanced up from her book, closing it and laying it on her bed.

"We'd better get going if you're all ready. We can have breakfast after, as I don't think the Guildmaster will keep us for terribly long."

James noticed that, although Briar spoke to him more often now, it always seemed to be in a very brusque way. He didn't expect any different though. Briar was still wary of him, and, he sensed, still hurt, and he wasn't about to try and force her to change her ways. He followed her out of their dorms, through the rest of the Guild, and into the courtyard. Overnight, it had snowed again, leaving a dazzling blanket of soft snow over everything. It looked like a picture straight out of a fairy tale book. They crunched through it, leaving two sets of tracks, until they arrived at the melee ring, where the Guildmaster was patiently waiting. He smiled at the pair as they approached, clearly glad to see they were no longer fighting. He mentioned nothing of the previous night's fight, however, when he spoke.

"I hope you two are both well rested. The test I am about to put each of you through may well determine whether or not you are accepted into the training regime. Your task is quite simple. All you must do is take the stick I will give you, and hit the dummy as hard as you can. However, being as old and strong as you both are, your true goal is to knock it right out of the ground."

With those words, he bent down and picked up two of the most plain and unremarkable sticks James had ever laid eyes on, presenting one to each of them. Briar and James took hold of their respective sticks, the disbelief plain on their faces.

"Ladies first," James said to Briar, grinning and motioning to the ring. She glared at him, but pushed open the wooden gate and entered nonetheless.

Briar walked up to the dummy. She dropped into a slight crouch, shifting her stick to a readier grip. Then, without warning, she sprang at the dummy, slamming her weapon into it with such a force that she not only ripped it from the ground, but burst apart its burlap exterior, causing hay to fly everywhere. With a slightly smug smile, Briar turned back to face the two, James with a slightly annoyed look about his face, the Guildmaster with a look of delight.

"Excellently done Briar! I can tell you will have absolutely no problem at all with your melee training!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, beaming. "Now James, it is your turn. Let's see if you can do better than Briar."

James clenched his jaw and strode into the ring. No way would he let a girl beat him. A second dummy had been placed next to the first, and James readied himself in front of it. He twirled the stick beside himself, and then slashed at the dummy, ripping apart the burlap. With that momentum, he spun around, kicking out his leg and felling the dummy. James exited the ring, pleased with his accomplishment.

"Brilliantly done yourself James!" the Guildmaster said, "It seems that we have two very promising apprentices on our hands now. Well, that's all for today. We won't be doing any more training until spring comes around. For the rest of the winter, you, along with the other apprentices, will focus on your studies and book learning. We will get your apprentice garments to you as soon as we can. For the time being, I suggest you two get something to eat, and then take the day to rest and learn your way around the Guild." With a final smile, he departed, leaving the two of them behind.

"Book learning," James said with disgust, "I thought this was the Heroes Guild, not the Scholar's Guild!"

Briar looked aghast. "How can you say that?" she demanded, sounding annoyed, "Knowledge is one of the best weapons you could possibly have! It's vital that you know as much as you can about this land, about the creatures living in it and the history of this country! If you don't, you're no more than a barbarian welding a weapon. Maybe you don't care about learning, but I do. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get a head start on my studies. If you actually have something intelligent to say to me, I'll be in the library." Briar departed hurriedly, head held high. James sighed. It seemed like he had just gone another step back from the progress he had made with her…

Everything seemed hushed in the Guild library. People spoke in whispers, as book pages rustled softly in the cavernous room. Huge wooden shelves lined the walls, crammed to bursting with heavy volumes of books, some in long dead languages. All around, apprentices and acolytes sat at polished desks, reading in the flickering, warm light of lamps. James felt small in the library, and somewhat out of place. Although his father had taught him to read, he had never really done much of it, so to have to battle his way through these books, with all their complex knowledge and languages, would be a difficult task indeed. He wandered over to the desk that Briar was sitting at, leaning slightly over her shoulder to see what she was reading. It was a book written in a tongue James did not recognize.

"Can you please not read over my shoulder? I really dislike it when people do that. Not that you can probably read it anyway. Most people can't."

"You really dislike a lot of things, don't you?" James inquired.

Briar paused for a moment before responding. "Yes, I do. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," James said hurriedly, "It's just an observation."

James took a seat next to her, selecting a book from a pile in front of him. It was entitled "A History of Albion". James sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, yet thinking back on what Briar had said, he resigned himself to reading the book. _Knowledge is power_, _after all_, James thought. He flipped open the volume, and began reading. Despite himself, James found he actually enjoyed it, the more he read, although he'd never admit that to Briar.

After what seemed to be a very short period of time, Briar stood up, stretching. James looked up at her, surprised.

"You're leaving already?" he asked her incredulously. "We haven't even been here that long!"

"James," she said, a slight hint of laughter in her voice, "we've been here for hours. It's nearly time for supper." Briar paused, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were actually enjoying yourself."

"No, no, I just lost track of time is all," James lied, although Briar had been right. If he told her that though, he knew that he'd never live it down. "Well, let's go then."

They picked up their books and returned to their dorm, looking forward to a good meal and a long night's rest. Reflecting back on the day, James felt that maybe his time here wouldn't be so bad. He figured that he'd probably even enjoy himself immensely.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted by a familiar deep voice.

"Could I have a quick word, James?" Maze inquired, standing in the entrance of the dorm room.

James nodded, glancing back at Briar momentarily. She looked a little uneasy, but he couldn't understand why. Nonetheless, she nodded, encouraging him on. James turned and followed him all the way to his quarters on the other side of the Guild. Already, the sun had set, leaving the glowing moon to haunt the night sky.

James felt uneasy, however. He had a feeling that somehow, this would be more than just a quick word. He traipsed up the stairs of Maze's tower, winding round and round until they reached the top. Once at the landing, James stopped to marvel at Maze's quarters. The room was large and circular, with bookshelves pushed up against a large portion of the walls. A roaring fire was blazing in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room, and all the odd furniture and artefacts in it. Maze motioned to one of the two comfortable looking chairs in front of the fire, indicating that James should sit down. He did so, seating himself across from Maze. There was a long silence, during which time James assumed Maze was thinking about what to say, but then he spoke.

"How has your time here been, James?" You haven't found anything too challenging?" He posed the questions casually enough, but James couldn't help but feel there was an important reason why Maze was asking him these things.

"I have really enjoyed my time here," James responded, smiling slightly, "So far, nothing has been too difficult. Then again, I haven't trained much."

Maze nodded, a pensive look on his face. "And what of Briar? How is she faring?"

James paused, thinking it over. He heaved a great sigh, passing his hands over his face. "Briar is…suffering, I think. More than me, at least. As far as training goes, she's brilliant, but she seems to have distance herself from everyone, and she's still hurt." James had no idea why he as saying all this to someone who was almost a complete stranger, but who else could he talk to?

Maze sat there for a moment, gazing into the fire, deep in thought. "I think, he said slowly, as if still piecing together his thoughts, "that Briar will remain like this for a while. Wounds to the soul do heal in time, but always, the scars will remain, no matter what. She needs someone to be there for her, who she can trust. I think it is up to you to be that person, James. Be kind to her, treat her respectfully, and slowly gain her trust. It will help ease the pain for both of you."

"The thing is, we got off to a bad start," James began, "We've reconciled a little, but I still don't think she has quite forgiven me for what has happened. Maybe she will in time."

Maze nodded again. "And what of you, James? How have you been since the raid?"

Once more, James paused. "I'm not quite sure…Confused, I think, hurt, angry, sad…lost. There are too many thoughts and emotions to express. I'll get over it though…It might take a long while, it might take a short while; I honestly can't say."

Maze steepled his fingers, looking over them at James. "That is true. However, you have shown remarkable strength in the face of such a horrible event; both of you have. That is a character trait that many of the greatest Heroes possess. Maybe that's something that will encourage you during your training."

James smiled a cold, haunted smile. "The only thing encouraging me right now, sir, is the thought of training hard, graduating from the Guild, and then getting revenge upon the person who tore my family apart."

And with that, James pushed himself up from the chair, disappearing down the stairs and into the night. Maze sighed. _If only he knew, _he thought, _if only he knew_…


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_The next summer…_

James awoke to the now familiar shimmer of colourful light falling across his bed. He and Briar had been at the Guild for several months now, spending their short winter days in the library, studying, while in the evening, they spent time in their dorms, doing whatever caught their fancy, although it usually turned to studying.

James crawled out of bed, listening to an energetic wren singing its bubbly song right outside the window. With a jolt, James realized that today was the first day of real training, now that summer had arrived. After dragging himself into his apprentice's robes, he trudged down to the library, were he knew Briar would be. Over the past few months, the two had gotten to know each other better. Briar's trust was slow coming, but James knew he'd get it sometime.

Arriving at the entrance to the library, James looked over to the desk that Briar always sat at, and was surprised to find that she wasn't there. That was unusual…she always came down to the library to get a bit of studying in before breakfast. Concerned, James continued on to the dining hall, but she wasn't there either. He glanced out one of the windows, and noticed a small knot of people standing on the bridge leading to the Will training ground, marvelling at whoever was practising. His curiosity overtook his concern, and he quickly jogged over to them to see what was going on. Gently pushing his way to the front, he was met with a surprising sight. Standing in the middle of the training ground was Briar, skilfully blasting the burlap dummies with bright blue lightning, the Guild Master standing next to her, beaming. All around him, James heard whispers and mutters as people stood in awe of her. Beside him, one apprentice was whispering excitedly to his partner.

"I've never seen any apprentice catch on to the Will so fast, and I've been here a long time, mind you! I won't be surprised to see this one turn out to be a legendary Heroine!" The man turned back to watch Briar, the admiration plain to see in his eyes.

James stood there, in the midst of all the people, observing Briar as she continued to excel in using the Will. The more he watched, the more envious he grew. His jealousy was like a painful knot in his stomach, overpowering his thoughts. How would he ever be able to live up to what she was doing? No longer being able to take it, James turned away and departed, slipping away unnoticed while the others continued to stare in awe at Briar. Clenching his fists, he stalked away to his dorm room, where he fell on to his bed, fuming. Why was this bothering him so much? It was just one thing that she was better at than him…and it was so unlike James to be jealous of someone. _It doesn't matter_, he thought to himself, _I'm sure there's something that I'll excel in…_A distraction from his thoughts came in the form of Briar, who had wandered back up to their dorms.

"The Guild Master wants us to begin our melee training together," she said glancing over him, "And what's up with you? You're looking a little ticked off."

"Oh no, I'm fine," James fibbed, sliding off the bed. "Just thinking is all."

Briar eyed him, clearly sensing that he wasn't being entirely truthful. She didn't say a word however, and simply followed him out to the melee training ring. The Guild Master was, once again, there to greet them with a smile.

"Today, as I'm sure you're both aware," he said, once they had arrived, "is the day that we begin your melee training. All I want to do is see you two up against each other, so that we can see how you both react to a real target, not just a dummy. I'd like for each of you to take an Iron Longsword, and then we'll commence."

They did so, entering the ring one after the other. _This_ _is my chance to out shine Briar_, James thought, although he immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing. They stood several feet apart, facing each other. Shifting his sword to a readier grip, James cleared his mind, thinking only of the fight ahead. It seemed Briar was doing the same.

"Now," the Guild Master exclaimed, "I want you two to put up a good fight, but don't harm each other. There are few Heroes as is, so we don't need you two tearing each other to shreds. When I say go, you may start, and I'll decide when the fight is over. Are you ready?" Briar and James nodded, muscles tensing, preparing themselves for the on coming fight. "Very well then…GO!"

Without hesitation, James sprang at Briar, swinging his sword upward, preparing to bring it down. She anticipated his move, and dodged skilfully to the side, sweeping her sword around and catching his boots. James tumbled to the ground, swiftly rolling out of the way before she could land another strike. He leaped to his feet, whipping around to face her again. Briar grinned tauntingly, egging him on. James however, forced himself to stay calm. With a flourish of his sword to the side of him, he charged at her, faking to the right. She lunged to the right as well, but realized too late that James had changed direction, suddenly turning to the left. With one deft stroke, he hacked at her sword, sending her stumbling against the ring wall, and causing her to drop her sword. James smirked, knowing he had gained the upper hand. Lazily, he pointed his sword at her throat.

"I win," he whispered, so that the Guild Master couldn't hear, "Looks like you may need to stick with your Will skills, because your melee skills are clearly not up to scratch.

Briar glared at him venomously. "What's wrong with you?" she hissed angrily, "It's just one fight! Besides, I'm drained from practising Will this morning. I didn't see you out there at all."

Their argument was cut short by the Guild Master, who had entered the ring and was pulling James away from Briar, sensing that all was not well.

"Now you two, there's no need to be like this. It'll do you no good to have the pair of you as rivals." He turned to Briar, "You may go rest. For now, I'd like to work with James on the Will."

She nodded, turning away and walking back to the Guild, but not before shooting James another venomous glance. When she was gone, the Guild Master spoke to James.

"I'm going to pretend that you did not just say those things to Briar, because believe me, I could hear them. I trust it will not happen again." The Guild Master did not look or sound angry, but James felt guilty anyway. "Now, let's go and get you started on the Will. We won't do anything fancy today, just some basic training is all. Follow me."

James said nothing, simply sheathing his sword on his back and trailing the Guild Master to the Will training grounds.

Once there, James stopped for a moment to admire the rushing waterfalls. It took him a while before he noticed a strange, crude looking face carved into the cliff wall. Suddenly, he realized that the face was _breathing_. Taking a step backwards, James gasped.

"What is it?" the Guild Master inquired, looking concerned.

"Wha-what is that?" James asked in a slightly shaky voice, pointing to the face.

The Guild Master laughed. "Oh, that's just a Demon Door. Don't worry, my boy, you won't have to worry about him. You wouldn't even be able to open him up at this point. Now, back to the matter at hand. Stand in the middle of the training ground please."

James did as he was told, deliberately averting his eyes from the Demon Door. Instead, he faced the dummies, waiting for his next set of instructions.

"The first thing that you must understand about the Will is that it takes great mental power to control it, although physically you must control it too, to a certain extent. However, it all starts with your mind. What I want you to do first is try a simple lightning spell. Choose one of the dummies as your target. Good, now, what I want you to do is concentrate hard on trying to tap into the power of the Will. Do not let any other thought enter your mind. You'll notice, if you're doing it right, that you'll seem to open up a hidden reserve of energy in your mind. Try and harness this energy, or power, and don't let go of it. If you do, it could be fatal. Excellent, I can tell you're concentrating properly. Now that you've harnessed this energy, try and focus it into the spell you wish to cast, in this case, lightning. Let the energy build up, always keeping it in control."

James stood there, concentrating on the energy that was now building up. Curiously enough, instead of it being bright blue, it was a brilliant yellow, and instead of building up all around his hands, like it had with Briar, it gathered into an orb between them, slowly growing bigger, buzzing and snapping with energy.

"Now you'll notice that it's becoming harder to control," the Guild Master continued. "When it becomes impossible to do so, I want you to release the energy, or Will, towards the dummy, all the while concentrating the power towards it. If all goes well, you'll strike the dummy with enough force to do damage."

James took a deep breath, readying himself. The orb of energy was now of a decent size, and James could no longer keep it under his power. With all his might, he tossed it towards the dummy, and it struck it right on the target, blasting it with a continual stream of bright lightning. After a while, James began to feel fatigued, and wearily, cut short the supply of Will, reverting back to his normal frame of mind.

"Excellent!" the Guild Master exclaimed, "You will find that the more you practice the Will, the more natural it becomes to tap into that reserve of energy, until it becomes second nature to you. Those who are more introverted and tend to think plenty generally have an easier time with the Will, as it's a mental skill. Such is the case with Briar. But I think with a little practice, you will have no trouble with catching up to her. Now, I think you deserve a good rest. Tomorrow, you and Briar will begin your archery training, and after that, we will set a regular schedule for the both of you. That is all. You may go."

James was about to leave, when he remembered something he had wanted to ask. He turned back to the Guild Master. "Sir, why is it that my lightning spell was yellow, and not blue, like Briar's? It also seemed to…power up differently."

The Guild Master smiled gently. "That, my boy, is something that the greatest scholars have yet to figure out. Why some seem to have a different version of that particular spell, we do not know. But do not worry, it does not seem to have an effect on how powerful your spell is. It will be just as strong as the others."

The Guild Master left James to reflect on what he had just learned, serenely walking back towards the Guild. Feeling slightly less troubled now, James returned to his dorm room, politely ignoring Briar, who, yet again, sat reading on her bed. For the rest of the night, the two of them did not talk to each other.

All was quiet. It was now evening, and the twilight sky was lightly dusted with sparkling stars. James gazed at them from his perch atop the Guild, seated on one of the rooftops, thinking. His fight with Briar was still fresh in his mind, and he had the terrible feeling that somehow, she would never forgive him, or trust him again. James hoped sincerely though, that his thoughts were wrong. He continued to stare bitterly into the sky, not caring that the light was rapidly disappearing, meaning his decent from the roof would be dangerous. So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he failed to notice Briar surreptitiously clamber onto the roof and settle herself down next to him. It wasn't until a few seconds later that he realized she was there.

"Look, I don't know what happened today," she began, trying not to sound irate, "but I think it would be best for the both of us if you would bother to tell me."

"I'm not really quite sure what happened," James muttered, frowning slightly, "I just…lost it, is all."

"Lost it? James, if looks could kill, you would have been pushing up the daisies. Something's wrong. I won't get mad at you this time if you tell me."

James felt uncomfortable, but he knew it would do no good not to say anything to Briar. Carefully choosing the right words, he began.

"I suppose I was…jealous," James sighed. It pained him to admit it, but he wanted to be truthful.

Briar looked surprised. "What of?" she asked.

"Well…your obvious superiority at Will, I suppose. I just wanted so badly to be superior at something too." He turned away from her, feeling ashamed. James braced himself for the cruel comment he was sure he'd get, but it didn't come. Instead, Briar smiled.

"You don't need to feel bad about it. I'll admit, I was jealous of your abilities in melee training."

James was taken aback. "You were?"

Briar nodded, but said nothing. Neither of them said anything for the rest of the night, but they didn't need to. The both of them knew that they had reconciled…oh, there would be fights and arguments to come, and they knew it, but all that didn't matter. Suddenly, it seemed, their future at the Guild was much brighter…


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Concentrate boy! It'll do you no good during a fight to lose your focus like that!"

James glared at Maze, who stood in front of him, staff raised, prepared to fight. He was about to yell back a snide remark, but thought better of it, recalling who he was up against. Instead, he gripped his sword tighter, planning his next move. James knew he had to be careful about what he did during this short test, as it determined whether or not he would graduate from the Heroes Guild. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he readied himself. Then, without warning, James launched himself at Maze, raising his sword. At the last second, James dropped to the ground, rolling behind the old wizard, catching him unawares. He swung at Maze's back, only to be blocked by his Physical Shield. The shimmering blue force field prevented his weapon from coming anymore than a few inches from Maze's body. Shrugging it off, the Mage whipped around, ready to confront James head on. Now he had to prove his skill in close contact combat. Maze made the first move, slashing at James with his staff, forcing the young man to block with his sword. The hit jarred him, but he pushed back with all his might, forcing Maze backwards. Pulling back slightly, he swept his sword down and back and then brought it back up, hitting the old man's staff from underneath and knocking it upwards, leaving him defenceless. Taking advantage of Maze's weak moment, James stabbed at his heart, already knowing he'd meet the Physical Shield. It didn't matter to him though; he knew that he had broken through Maze's defences, and that was good enough for him. The Mage stepped back, smiling.

"An excellent job done, James," he said proudly, "you managed to breach my guard, something few apprentices accomplish."

James grinned, but said nothing. He felt a warm glow of pride, but quickly ignored it, knowing that the next part of his test was coming.

Sheathing his staff, Maze explained to James the following part. "Next, you must attempt to hit me using nothing but your bow and arrow. No Will is allowed to be used during this portion of the test." With that, he teleported away, only to appear on the other side of the clearing the two were in. "Ready yourself!" he called, his Physical Shield appearing around him, flickering in the sunlight.

James drew his bow and selected an arrow from his quiver, carefully choosing one of his best. He nocked it, drawing the string back to his chin. Narrowing his eyes, he focussed on Maze. James was about to let the arrow loose when something caught the corner of his eye…a tree branch was blowing in the wind, just a few feet away from the old mage, indicating that the breeze was wafting crossways. James knew that if he didn't take this into account, he could potentially miss his shot, seriously damaging his chances of graduating. Adjusting his aim accordingly, he tensed the string again, and let the arrow fly. It whistled through the air, striking Maze straight in the chest, or at least hitting the part of his shield directly over it. Maze teleported away, setting himself up in a different location. As before, James picked another arrow, and prepared his shot, striking the old man yet again. They continued doing this for a while, Maze occasionally attempting to dodge James shots, or constantly moving around to keep the young man on his toes. Finally, the Mage held up a hand, signalling that it was finished.

"Again, excellent job, James. Your archery skills are almost as well developed as your melee combat skills. Now, it's time for you to demonstrate your Will power."

James gulped. Although he had admirable proficiency with the Will, it worried him to have to show Maze, a great mage, what he could do. Nonetheless, he calmed himself, ready to accept whatever happened. Without even having to think about it, he let his mind tap into his hidden reserve of Will energy, letting the power fill him. James raised his hands, level with his stomach, one over the other, and allowed the bright yellow orb of force to gather there. It grew ever larger, illuminating James' face with an unearthly glow. Then, with a roar, he released it, sending it blazing towards Maze. It slammed into him, knocking him forcefully back against a tree. He heaved himself back up, brushing dirt of his cloak. Slowly, almost deliberately, he walked towards James, looking him straight in the eye.

"You boy, will do remarkable things in your lifetime, I can tell you that. Very few ever manage to produce a spell as powerful as that." He smirked, clearly remembering something funny. "And you seemed to think that you would do terrible at the Will, if I remember well. Clearly you were wrong. Congratulations James, I am very pleased to tell you that you have earned the right to graduate from the Heroes Guild. You may go rest, and don't forget that the ceremony is this evening in the Chamber of Fate."

James nodded and left, passing through the gates that marked the entrance to the Guild Woods. He felt slightly worried by what Maze had said, yet he didn't know why. Glancing around, he spied Briar, sitting on a large rock near the gateway. Noticing him, she leapt down lithely, striding towards him.

"How was it?" she inquired, scrutinizing his face, "Was it hard at all?"

"No, not particularly. As far as archery goes, you just have to hit Maze a few times while he moves around. With the Will all you have to do is strike him hard enough with whichever spell you choose until he's satisfied. And with melee you simply must break through his defences. Nothing you can't handle, trust me. If I could do it, you certainly will be able to."

Briar nodded, peering through to the Guild Woods. "Well then, wish me luck," she said boldly, a determined look on her face.

James smiled at her, "Good luck then. I'll wait out here for you." He jumped up onto the rock, watching Briar as she strode into the woods, readying herself for the turning point that was to come.

James glanced up, shaking his head and clearing his mind of the day dream he was having. Briar was coming out of the Guild Woods, looking immensely pleased with herself.

"Maze said that I did brilliantly," she called up to him. "He also said that you and I have to be the two strongest Will users he's ever seen pass through the Guild since he's been head."

James slid down from the rock, grinning. "Well then, I suppose all those evil villains out there will have to fear us once we get out of this place, now won't they? Come; let's go get a drink at the Guild tavern, to celebrate our success."

Briar grinned too, and followed him back to the Guild. James greeted Alistair, who responded warmly.

"What can I do ye for, James?" he asked, noticing Briar standing behind him, "And ye too, Briar."

"Just two pints of ale is good, Alistair," she said, as James nodded.

"Comin' right up!" he said cheerfully, pulling two tankards from beneath the counter and filling them with the amber coloured drink from the taps. "So, how did your tests go, eh? Well, I'm assumin'."

"They did, actually," James said enthusiastically, "for the both of us too. The graduation ceremony is tonight, and then we're off."

"Kickin' ye out into the wide world already, are they?" Alistair commented as he passed them their drinks. "You two be careful ou' there. Rumour has it tha' dark forces are gatherin' tha' even the greatest minds can' explain." He nodded darkly. "I'm telling ye, this world's changed, it has, an' not for the better." Alistair left them with these thoughts, going back to wiping down the counter. Briar and James picked up their tankards, suddenly not feeling as eager to leave the Guild. Once seated, Briar spoke up in a hushed, urgent whisper.

"Do you think what he was saying is true? That dark forces are gathering?"

"It could be," James said, mulling it over in his mind, "After all, neither of us has had any outside news for four years. Things will have definitely changed since. I wonder where these forces are coming from…"

Briar shrugged. "Who knows? I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." She paused, thinking something over. "You do realize that once we leave, we'll be considered rivals? People will expect us to be competing with each other for their attention and such." It sounded as if she did not fancy that fact much.

"Yes, I'm well aware of it," James responded, not looking pleased either, "I suppose it's just one of the many sacrifices we'll have to pay as Heroes. So long as we make it a friendly rivalry, I'm sure all will be fine."

Briar inclined her head, acknowledging what he said. For a while, the two of them sat in mutual silence, drinking their ale. Finally, James drained the last of his drink and stood up. "Well, I'm off," he announced, "I have to go wash up before the ceremony."

"That reminds me, so do I," Briar said, leaving for the girls' bathhouse. "I'll catch you later!" she called over her shoulder to James. He smiled and nodded, leaving the dining hall.

All were silent in the Chamber of Fate. No one dared make a sound, nor whisper a single word, for fear that it would be heard by anyone standing in the great hall. All the apprentices stood around the slightly raised dais, facing the two people who stood on it. Foremost was the Guild Master, who stood with an uncharacteristically serious look upon his face. Next to him was Maze, who bore his usual look of graveness. James glanced around at every one else, all the other apprentices, who looked extraordinarily nervous. Briar, standing next to him however, looked perfectly calm, with a slightly thoughtful look on her face. Tired of watching the others, and of waiting for the ceremony to start, James took a good look at the chamber they were in, knowing it would probably be a very long time before he saw it again. The walls, like so many others in the Guild, were made of stone, but they looked much more worn. Near the top of the roof, which was shaped like a dome, were intricate stained glass windows, the light shining through them creating vivid designs on the floor of the hall. At equal intervals along the wall, statues of fierce looking angels had been carved, and in between them were elaborately painted murals. James admired each one of them for a while, and soon noticed that a lot of spaces were missing the frescoes. The first few that did, however, featured a boy who looked remarkably like-

"James!" Briar hissed, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow, "pay attention! The ceremony is about to start!"

And sure enough, she was right. The Guild Master had taken a step forward, preparing to speak.

"You will listen carefully, all of you. What I am about to say is not to be taken lightly. Today is the day that you shall leave the safety of the Heroes Guild and find your way out in the world. However, I must give you all a warning, something I have not needed to do for so long. A darkness is gathering that you must heed. Be wary of it, for if not, you shall regret it. If you still don't understand, you either did not listen or do not need to know. Now, on the subject of your future as Heroes. It will be your burden to protect all those who cannot protect themselves. Follow the path that you wish, whether it be for the greater good, or the greater evil. You shall start your journey like so many others, yet end it drastically different, this much I can say. Now, let the graduation commence."

Everyone stood there for a moment, tense, worried. The Guild Master had never sounded so grim, and it worried them. However, Maze stepped forward as if the speech that the Guild Master had given was normal, and began calling out names. One by one, apprentices stepped forward to accept their Guild Seals, returning back to their friends as official Heroes. Briar was called up, second to last. Her face was straight, serious, as she received her seal. When she came back down to where James stood, he smiled at her, and she returned it. Then, his name was called. James' heart raced. _Now is the time when I leave my old life behind, and emerge as a Hero_, he thought. He walked towards Maze purposefully, solemnly accepting his Guild Seal. Maze looked him straight in the eyes, nodding quietly to him. Stepping down from the dais, James felt different. He knew now that the carefree life was behind him. Now, the fate of many lives rested in his hands, and that knowledge was like a heavy weight on his shoulders. James turned to face the Guild Master again, who was about to say one final thing to them all. Once more, the unsettling silence fell over them all as they stared at the old man intently. He said only one thing to them, in a voice so soft they could scarcely hear it.

"Choose wisely in this world, for in the end, there will be no second chance."


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The sun was already sinking beneath the horizon when James joined Briar Rose on the sandy shore. The surf lapped gently against the beach, while the sea glittered with the brilliant colours of the glowing sun. A gentle breeze was blowing, carrying the salty smell that the two new Heroes remembered so well from child hood. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Instead, they simply stood there, staring out over the water, thinking back upon the years gone by, and what now lay ahead. There was a sadness in the air that James had not expected, yet it was there all the same. But there was another feeling that James sensed, but couldn't quite place, until he spotted the tall ship being prepared for departure. Loss. It was the terrible sense of loss he was feeling again.

"Why do you have to leave so soon?" he asked, turning with sad eyes to Briar. "We only got out of the Guild today, and already, you're leaving. Do you not want to stay and explore Albion for a bit? We could go together…"

Briar heaved a pained, despaired sigh. "No James, I can't to that…I must go away…not for long, but I must go all the same. There are things I have to do, things I must see, before I can return and carry on with my life. Even I'm not quite sure why…but it must be done. Don't worry…I will return, and when I do, you'll be the first person I'll find."

James nodded and looked up at the sky, which was slowly growing dark. Already, a few sparkling stars were beginning to appear, twinkling sadly. Brightest of all was the Evening Star, marking the North. "I know you'll come back…it just seems strange that you're leaving so soon…most Heroes at least do a few quests before they travel."

Briar smiled, a hint of laughter in her eyes "But I'm not like most Heroes, am I?"

Despite himself, James couldn't help but grin, "No, you're not." He grew serious again, however. "Still, it seems wrong to let you go alone, especially since you'll be going so far from home."

Briar hesitated, clearly struggling. "It's a lonely road some of us must walk…I don't think I'd have it any other way. My burdens are not yours, and I don't want them to be. Carry on with your life James, and don't let my departure ruin it. This trip is part of my healing…it's necessary. I promise I'll come back. I promise."

Again, all James could do was nod, not being able to find the right words to respond. The silence stretched on, broken only by the comforting sound of the sea. Soon, the sun and its light had disappeared, leaving nothing but the stars and the moon shining in the ink black sky. It seemed odd to James that Briar had to leave at night, but the captain of the ship had said it was necessary if they wanted to arrive at their destination on time. Maybe it was better that way too. That way, Briar wouldn't have to see the heart broken expression on his face when she finally departed. James would be alone in the world again, and that was something he was struggling with. He and Briar had become close friends, and to watch her leave him would hurt. But like she had said, it was needed, if it meant that she would find a small bit of peace of mind and comfort.

All to soon, it seemed to James, the captain was calling to Briar to board the ship. She turned to face James, looking him straight in the eyes. "I suppose this is goodbye, then," she whispered, with the same expression on her face he had seen the day that she had come to the Guild.

"Yes, I suppose it is. But before you go, I have something," he said, reaching down beside himself and gathering up a small bundle. He pulled out two books, and presented them to a surprised and touched looking Briar. James smiled, "Go on, take them."

She did so, staring at the covers. The first one was bound with deep red leather, and had the word "Journal" printed on the front in golden lettering. The second book was bound with emerald green material and bore the title "Tales of Albion".

"My father always told me that every explorer needs a good journal and a decent book of tales when travelling, to pass the many lonely nights," James explained, his smile ever present.

Briar looked back up at him, the gratefulness plain to see in her eyes. "Thank you James. Thank you so much." The captain began calling impatiently, urging her to hurry up. She sighed, looking hesitant. "I suppose this is it then. No turning back…"

"Don't worry, Briar," James said, "Everything will be all right. I know you'll be fine. Do what you need to do, and when you return, I'll be waiting." He approached Briar and gave her a quick hug, and then she left, without another word, taking her things and boarding the tall ship. With a few quick commands from the captain, it began pulling away from the shore, setting off for lands unknown to James. And standing there, at the railing, was Briar, waving sadly, until James could see her no more, and the night swallowed her up.

"Are you there lad? You're needed back at the Guild."

James sighed and pulled out his newly acquired Guild seal, from which the Guild Master's voice was echoing. He had only been a Hero for a day, and already it seemed, he'd have work to do. Briar had left hours ago, but James had decided to stay on the beach and enjoy the sounds and smells of the sea for a little longer, before he had to begin his life long responsibilities of being a Hero. Heaving himself up off the ground, James paused a moment to admire the sun rising above the water, painting soft, pastel colours across the land. Bringing himself back to reality, he gripped his seal tighter, and slowly became wrapped with the blue mist and gentle ringing that always accompanied each of his teleportations.

When James arrived at the Guild, he was greeted by the Guild Master's cheerful smile. "Good day James! Glad you could make it so quickly. We're having a little problem down at the Picnic Area that I'm sure you'll have no problem clearing up. I'll hand you the quest card and you can be off."

"But-I-wait-what is it that I'm supposed to be doing? Can you at least tell me that?" James demanded, feeling bewildered.

"Oh, nothing much dear boy. Just a few wasps is all. Like I said, it's nothing you can't handle!" And with that, he shoved the quest card into James' hand and steered him towards the teleporting pad. "Good luck!" he cried, before James disappeared in the blue haze.

Disgruntled, he reappeared at the Lookout Point, and was just reading over his quest card when a panic stricken man rushed up to him.

"You've got to help! Please!" he beseeched, waving his hands madly in the air, "You must to hurry! I have no time to explain. Quick, follow me!" He turned around and sprinted back the way he had come, leaving James no choice but to follow him. They didn't have far to go; in no time, the gates to the Picnic Area appeared in front of them. The man stopped, panting. "Well, I guess my part's done. I'll leave you to deal with the wasps. Good luck!" And with that, he scuttled away, not even so much as glancing back. With a terrible sense of trepidation, James marched through the gates, his whole body tense. This time, it wouldn't be a safe, guarded training session. The threat of death was real.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sound came to his ears. The low hum of many wings filled the air, and when he rounded the corner, he was met with the sight of a dozen gigantic wasps, some buzzing around madly, others gorging on the bloody corpses of picnickers. For a moment, James gazed in horror, forgetting about the task at hand. He shook himself when he heard the voice of a woman behind him.

"Oh, so they sent you to help us, did they? Well, I suppose a Chicken Chaser will do for this sort of thing." Before he could respond, she ran away, her footfalls making crunching sounds on the gravel. James gulped, turning back towards the angry buzzing and drawing his sword, then thinking better of it. He wanted to stay as far away from the creatures as possible…at least for now. Instead, he sheathed his blade and drew his bow. Selecting an arrow, he nocked it, pulling the string taunt. Taking careful aim, he let the arrow fly, and it found its target. The wasp tumbled to the ground, squealing and twitching, before falling still. James allowed himself a satisfied smile, but it quickly died. Noticing that one of their own had fallen, the wasps had gathered together and were flying rapidly towards him, their stingers held ready. Quick as he could, James dove for the ground, drawing his sword and throwing his bow aside as he did so. Pushing himself back up, James had just enough time to take a mighty swing as the wasps came his way again, successfully slicing several of them in two, and watching as they fell, writhing, to the ground. James took another swipe, murdering the remaining insects. _Well, that was easy_, James thought.

He turned around and was about to leave when all of the sudden he noticed a shadow fall across him. James slowly spun around, and gasped with dismay. Hovering there, pincers snapping menacingly was the Wasp Queen. With a terrible pang of fear, James realized that his sword wouldn't be able to help him now, and his bow had been discarded and was out of reach. There was only one option left for him now. Without thinking, James quickly tapped into his Will power, letting it build up between his hands in the form of lightning. He knew that by this time, he should be doing more advanced magic, but he didn't want to take a chance the first time around. James concentrated on the Will, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Then, without warning, he unleashed it with a mighty roar, striking the beast with a strong blast of pure energy. It shrieked in pain, trying to fight it back, but to no avail. James' spell was too powerful for it, and it plummeted to the ground, seemingly still.

With a grunt of satisfaction, James strode over to his bow, picked it up, and stowed it away, turning to leave. He had only taken a few steps when he heard a terrifying, high pitched screech behind him and the swift buzz of giant wings. Without warning, the Wasp Queen dove at his head, and he only managed to duck in time. Drawing his sword, he prepared himself for her next attack. She swooped low again, and this time felt the sharp blade of James' weapon. For a second time, the Wasp Queen collapsed, this time black blood pouring from the huge gash running down her abdomen. James stared in wonder at what he had done, watching as the giant insect convulsed a few more times before falling still. Wary that she might still be alive, he approached her, gently prodding the insect with one of his booted feet. The Wasp Queen did not stir, and so, still feeling numb, James proceeding to saw her head from her body, deciding to take it as a trophy.

His task done, he turned, once and for all, his back to the fallen beast, and headed for the gates. A small group of men and women approached him apprehensively, noticing that the angry buzzing had stopped.

"Did…did you kill them?" one woman stammered, cowering slightly.

"I did, ma'am. They're all dead. Even the Wasp Queen." He held up the bloody, severed head, as if to prove that he had done it. The small group stared in at it, and then at him, in awe. One man grinned, while next to him another exclaimed, "Brilliant! I'm going to tell all my friends about you! Thanks mate!" He turned around and ran away, obviously back to Bowerstone. The others followed, occasionally looking back to flash him a wide grin or wave cheerily. James smiled, looking down at the wasp's head. So this is what it felt like to be a Hero. To be admired by others, and praised for your deeds. Maybe he'd enjoy this new life. Despite the hardships, the respect acquired from it would be worth it. Well worth it…


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The snow drifted and tumbled softly from the sky, blanketing the land in startling whiteness. A hushed silence had fallen over the little town of Knothole Glade, as everyone had disappeared into their warm lodges to escape the unexpected snow fall. They had all retreated to windowless rooms, hoping to evade the cold, save for one wide eyed little boy, who sat at a large window in his house, gazing out at the unfamiliar snow on the ground.

"What's it called?" he asked his mother as she entered the room, pointing out the window.

"That," she started, kneeling down beside her son and laying a hand on his head, "is snow, Maze. It's rare here in Knothole Glade; we almost never get it."

"Oh." Maze lapsed into silence, contemplating this "snow" that he would have to get used to. For a long while, they sat in silence, doing nothing but watch the snow float gently to the ground, pilling ever higher.

"Did you know," his mother began, drawing him onto her lap and cradling him in her arms, "that you were born on a snowy day? It hadn't snowed in over a hundred years in Knothole Glade, and yet the day it did, you were born. Your father and I knew right then and there that you would be a very special child."

"Does that mean something special will happen again, because the snow's here?" Maze asked.

"Oh, who knows, love? But I'd imagine so. We'll just have to be patient and see." Again, there was a long stretch of silence while the two sat there comfortably, enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, a thought came to Maze's mind.

"I want to go see what it's like," he declared, scrambling off her lap and running for the door.

"That might not be such a good idea Maze!" she called, but he ignored her. Laughing, Maze tore out of the door and tumbled into the glittering snow. With a yelp of shock, he leapt up, hopping from foot to foot.

"It's freezing!" he cried plaintively to his mother, who stood laughing in the doorframe.

"Of course it is, love! That's what keeps the snow from melting into water. Now, if you want to play in it, you'll have to put your boots on. A cloak wouldn't hurt either." She lifted Maze into her arms, carrying him into the warm cabin and setting him on the soft rug in front of the blazing fire. She turned away and proceeded to search through a large chest, shifting things out of the way, until she extracted a pair of little brown leather boots and a thick, dark green cloak. She set them down beside Maze.

"There you go. Put those on, and then you can play outside for a while. I'll be watching at the window, so don't wander too far." Smiling at him lovingly, she straightened up, and then left the room.

Maze watched his mother leave, and then began pulling on his new boots, admiring the sheen of the polish as he did so. He stood and picked up his cloak, throwing it over his shoulders and fastening the clasp. Finally ready, he stepped outside into the soft snow, glancing around. Stooping, he brushed it with his fingers, his skin once again stinging from the cold of it. But no gloves had he, and so Maze carried on, shuffling through the thick layer of snow. He contented himself with simply walking around his cabin and occasionally prodding at patches of ice and snow drifts.

Suddenly, he heard soft footsteps behind him and turned around, slipping slightly on an icy patch. He was met with the smiling face of his mother. She was wrapped in light brown furs-he didn't know from which animal they came-and wore boots similar to his own.

"I decided I'd come outside instead of staying indoors. Snow comes rare enough, so I figured I'd enjoy it while I can."

Maze nodded, reaching out to grab her hand and walk beside her. They strolled around the village hand in hand, Maze occasionally pointing a small hand towards something and asking what it was. So enthralled was he by the drastic and beautiful change to the landscape that he did not notice the chill in the air, or the cool breeze that whispered through the evergreens. He and his mothered wandered a little farther, until they came out into a clearing, completely cut off from Knothole Glade. A peaceful silence fell upon them, muffled by the dense pines and the freshly fallen snow. Here and there, animal footprints traced delicate patterns across the clearing, but otherwise, the shimmering whiteness lay untouched.

Suddenly, a clear, bubbly whistle rang out through the clearing, and Maze looked around, startled. He spotted the source of the song quickly; sitting on an evergreen branch, its chest puffed out proudly, beak open wide, was a cardinal. Its bright red plumage created a stark contrast against the crisp greens and whites of the landscape. Noticing his bemused look, Maze's mother began to explain.

"That's a cardinal, Maze. Folk tales have always said that if you see a cardinal, expect a bloody near future." She paused, and then burst in to merry laughter, startling the cardinal from its perch and sending it flapping frantically into the dense wood. "My, between the coming of snow and this little cardinal, we could have quite an interesting time! But these are just folk tales, nothing to be taken seriously," she added, noting the panic stricken look on her son's face. She glanced up at the sky, noting that the weak winter sun had sunken beneath the tree line. "It's getting late, love. Let's head home and tomorrow, when your father returns, we'll go for a walk in the woods."

Maze nodded, and they returned home, to the warmth and comfort of the cabin. That night, he barely slept, so excited was he for the next day. Little did he know that his day would turn out to be much more interesting than he thought…

Maze crunched through the freshly fallen snow, laughing as the soft flakes fell upon his nose. On either side of him his parents walked, smiling down at their son, pleased to know he was enjoying himself. Today, no cold breeze blew, although the chill air still lingered. But in his childish joy, Maze did not notice. He simple continued to wander through the new and enchanting landscape, caught up in the moment. He stopped for a moment, a thought suddenly coming to his mind.

"What does snow taste like?" Maze inquired, looking up at his father's kindly face.

"I can't quite remember, son. Haven't tasted it in a while, but," he said, scratching the sparse stubble on his chin, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try again."

Before his father had even finished his words, Maze stooped, reaching out his hands to grasp a handful of snow, but stopped abruptly when he heard the hearty laughter of his father. "Oh, no son, that's not how you do it. Here, I'll show you the way. You tip your head back, like this. That's the ticket. Then, you stick out your tongue, like so." Maze couldn't help but giggle when his father did this. It made his voice come out funny. "And then you let the snowflakes fall upon your tongue!"

Maze grinned with delight as several of the flakes fell upon his tongue, melting as soon as they did so. And yet he tasted nothing.

"They don't have a taste," he said, looking utterly confused and disappointed.

"Of course they don't, love," his mother said gently, "They are, after all, just frozen water. Let's continue on, shall we?" Maze and his father nodded, and they continued along the path. For a long while, no one spoke, not wanting to disturb the peaceful calm of the forest. But finally, he father stopped, forcing the others to do the same.

"I think we've been out long enough. Best be getting back, else we'll be walking in the dark. If you'd really like to, we can come out again tomorrow."

Maze sighed, not wanting to go, but consenting nevertheless. Taking his mother's hand yet again, they turned back the way they came and began the long trip home. They walked, as before, in silence, not making, nor hearing, a sound.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by an unearthly howl that raised the hairs on the back of Maze's neck. It was like nothing he had ever heard, piercing through the thick forest and echoing between the trees.

"Balverines!" his father whispered hoarsely, tensing up suddenly. They're…"

But whatever they were, Maze would never know, for at that moment, a huge, ferocious beast leapt from the dense wood and threw itself at his father, pinning him to a tree. He yelled in pain, trying without much success to push the creature away. It held him there for a moment, watching him struggle, and then, with a mighty swipe of its fearsomely clawed hands, the Balverine slashed at the poor man's chest, tearing both clothes and skin apart. Maze's father collapsed into a pool of his own blood, doomed to never rise again.

The Balverine stood over its prey, chest heaving, sleek, pointed claws dripping with blood. It threw its head back, and gave another hair raising yowl. Maze stumbled back in horror as the sound of several Balverines crashing through the forest became clear. They burst through the impenetrable forest, rushing to the site of the fallen, bloodied man. Yet one thing soon became apparent to them. There was not enough meat to feed the whole pack. Slowly, they turned their yellow, murderous eyes upon the two people naught but a few paces away from them. Mother and son cowered, knowing there was no way out. Slowly, the Balverines advanced towards their prey, mouths dripping with saliva, gleaming, serrated teeth bared. In a desperate attempt to save her son, Maze's mother pushed him behind her, whispering frantically.

"Run Maze! Run as fast as you can, and don't look back. Just run!" She pushed him along, and he did as he was told, running until he felt a terribly painful stitch in his side. Yet his blood ran cold when he heard the horrifying, pained shriek of his mother as the Balverines fell upon her. Her cries were cut short almost as soon as they started. Maze closed his eyes, suppressing tears. Gone, they were both gone, just like that, it seemed. Despite those dreadful thoughts, he forced himself to turn around and open his eyes, taking in the scene before him. Laying spread eagle on her back was his mother, her dark hair fanned out around her head. Choking back his tears now, Maze stumbled backwards as the Balverines stalked towards him, jaws agape and claws raised menacingly. Now, they were just killing for fun, not for food.

In his haste to get away, Maze tripped over his own feet, crashing to the ground. Frantically, he tried to pull him self up, and feared he was too late, just as one of the sleek, dark creatures dove towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the pain, and yet it didn't come. All he heard was the aggrieved scream of the Balverine and a thud as it dropped to the frozen ground. Cracking an eye open, Maze saw the Balverine, only a hand's breadth away, stone dead, a silver long sword protruding from its side. A formidable looking man in shining plate armor strode up to the beast and ripped his sword from its side, ignoring Maze and turning towards the two other Balverines who remained. He was joined by an equally powerful looking man, this one sporting a silvery chain mail suit. The two raised their weapons, prepared to fight, when a third man came crashing into the clearing. This one was different from the other two. True, he did wear plate armor like the other, but over top of that he wore a jagged, bright red cape, the hood thrown over his head. No face could Maze discern, for it was covered by a pure white mask decorated elaborately with many intricate designs. In the blink of an eye, he slashed at the two fearsome beasts, felling them as if simply swatting flies away. Maze stared in awe at this formidable show of strength, but his look of awe turned to one of horror as he watched the stranger turn his attention to the two Heroes, slaying them before they could even raise their defenses. Wiping off his sword on one of the unfortunate men, he turned his burning, cruel gaze towards Maze, who sat huddled on the ground, terrified for his life.

"You shall come with me, boy. This is your life no longer. You belong to me." He turned back, preparing to take the boy away. Somewhere in the distance, a cardinal sang its clear, bubbly whistle.

And for the first time, Maze felt the cold.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Briar held the dying child in her arms, humming a gentle lullaby to him as he drew in raspy breaths, the life slowly ebbing from him. His wounds were beyond healing, the arrow in his stomach too firmly lodged in for Briar to remove. All she could do for him now was comfort him in his final moments.

Briar and the rest of the crew had been stranded at Hook Coast for a few days now, their ship having run aground a few leagues away from the desolate village. Because of the terrible weather, they hadn't been able to charter a new ship for sailing, and Briar didn't feel comfortable using the Cullis Gates when the others couldn't. During their stay, the village had been raided by rogue militants in the middle of the night, and before anyone could organize a proper defense, they had slaughtered half the village, leaving the rest injured, and had pillaged all they could. Now, Briar and the crew, the only one's who knew how to fight and hence to make it out unscathed, were left to clean up the terrible mess.

Suddenly, the little boy in her arms gave a slight tremor, and then he fell limp, the life now gone from him. Briar sighed woefully and laid him down gently upon the ground, despaired that she couldn't help him. She rose to her feet, passing a hand over her face. Her trip was not going as she expected. Looking around, she spotted one of the shipmates and hollered, waving him over.

"We've lost another one, Pedro. Young boy. If I could get you to bring him around to the graveyard, I'll try and find out who he was so that we can get his name on a gravestone."

"You're pretty adamant on making sure there are no unmarked graves, aren't you?" he observed, gently picking up the little body of the dead boy.

"Yes, I am, as a matter of fact," Briar snapped, still feeling on edge. She turned her back to the sailor, and carried on, searching for more victims. Treading carefully, she wandered around the village, but found no one, and so returned to the front of the tavern, where the others were waiting for her.

"Well, that's all of them," the Captain announced as Briar approached. "Only a handful of people survived, the rest are dead or dying."

Briar nodded slowly, still in a slight daze. Was this what she'd have to continue to put up with as a Hero? If it was, she wasn't so sure she could handle it…or could, if only she'd harden her soul. At least, more than it was already.

"Right then. I'll get started on identifying the bodies, and they'll well figure out what to do from there," Briar said, keeping her voice steady. The Captain inclined his head, and offered to accompany her back to her rooms, but she declined, wanting nothing more than to be alone for a while.

Briar trudged into the tavern and into her room, ignoring everything around her. Once in her room, she firmly shut the door and collapsed onto her bed, dreading the task ahead of her. Why did this have to happen to her? Why was it that all the bad things happened to her? Briar didn't deserve it, had never deserved it, and yet was burdened with all these problems.

Sadly, she stared up at the full moon through her window, reflecting for a few moments. Then, she reached out for one of the books on her bedside table. Pulling it towards herself, she glanced at the title. _Tales of Albion_. The book James had given to her. Maybe a few fairytales would do her some good. Help her escape from the real world for a while…

And with a small smile, she flipped the book open, humming a, soft, sad lullaby to herself.

The busy bustle greeted James as soon as he entered the large oaken gates of Bowerstone South. All around him stood great stone and timber houses and shops, bigger than anything he had ever seen in Oakvale. Beneath his feet, a cobbled road wound its way through the city, worn slightly from the hundreds of feet that had passed over it. The constant, cheerful chatter of many voices surrounded him, and here and there James could hear people bartering, friends calling out pleasant greetings and traders boasting about their wares. Occasionally, a laughing child would meander across his path, only to take off, screaming with delight, when another would come running for one more game of tag.

People wandered in and out of shops, the door chimes tinkling briefly as they did so, and the occasional cow bell could be heard. The sound of a ringing anvil was just barely audible over the babble of the crowd, as was the smith's cries of "Swords, axes, shields, armor! We got it!" repeated every so often. Even the animals made sure their noise was heard-dogs barked loudly, tied back with thin chains, birds whistled cheerily above the lively city, and a lone rooster crowed at the top of its lungs, perched on one of the watch towers. All around James, people went about their daily work, some men carrying crates of apples, others manning their stalls, as it was market day, and the rest carrying out various little tasks. Even, it seemed, all the women had something to be doing.

James stood there for a long while, trying to take it all in. All the sounds and sights were so unfamiliar to him. _So this is what the outside world is like, _James thought. Although it was overwhelming at first, James knew he'd get used to it, and enjoy it very much.

Suddenly, he was disturbed from his reverie by a very loud and indignant chicken, which happened to stray across his path. It clucked stridently, scratching around James' feet. He was clearly in its way, and hastily moved, knowing from experience what it was like to deal with an angry chicken. He glanced around, hoping to find Maze, the person he had come for. Upon returning to the Guild after his quest, he had been told by the Guild Master that Maze had been waiting for him here, somewhere near the Bowerstone Tavern. James was about to continue farther into the bustling city, when he was stopped abruptly by a broad shouldered guard, his blue and red cap pulled down low over his eyes.

"Oi, you! You're new here, aren't you?" he asked in a rough voice, clasping his hands in front of himself. James nodded, figuring it best not to talk. "Well, then, I have a few rules for you. First one, seeing as Bowerstone is a peaceful, non-violent town, there are no weapons allowed, so I'm going to have to ask you to hand over all your weapons." James nearly gasped out loud in shock. Hand over his weapons? Was he mad? James didn't much fancy entrusting his arms to a complete stranger, even if he was a guard. But he knew that creating a scene would not be a good way to start out his new life, and so he consented, grudgingly handing over his sword, bow and quiver. "Good. Now that that's done with, I'll tell you the rest of the rules. They're pretty basic. No causing disruptions, no acts of violence…" And he carried on, outlining in detail the laws to James, whose mind started to wander. "And," the guard said finally, bringing James back to reality, "never, on any accounts, disrupt the mayor, Lady Grey. That's a sign of disrespect, that." He stopped his rant, and then smiled. "Well sir, you have yourself a good day. Be seeing you!" he said cheerily, before turning away to continue his patrol.

James stared after him, slightly bemused. He shook his head, smiling faintly. Yes, he'd like this world, he was sure of it. Now, if only he could find Maze…

He pushed his way gently through the crowd, twisting his head this way and that, trying to find the old wizard. Finally, he spotted him, standing in front of the Bowerstone Tavern. Maze waved to James, clearly trying to attract as little attention as possible. Weaving his way through the people, James finally reached the entrance of the tavern, but before he could say a word, Maze beckoned to him, and led him into the tavern and towards a more secluded table. Despite the busy crowds outside, the tavern was almost completely deserted. Just like in Oakvale, as James remembered, the tavern only really filled up come the evening tide.

He took a seat a cross from Maze, gazing momentarily at the old man's face, which look slightly haggard. What had happened since James' departure from the Guild to make Maze look so worn out? James didn't know, and had a feeling he wouldn't be finding out right away.

"So, James, how have you been?" Maze asked, leaning in so they wouldn't be heard. "I hear you've completed your first quest. Without getting injured too."

"Yes, you heard right," James replied, feeling a warm glow of pride. "It wasn't that hard, actually. I thought it would be."

Maze frowned slightly. "Be wary of that, James. This was only your first quest; it was meant to be easy and relatively safe. Never let your pride get in the way of your better judgment; few quests after this will be easy or even close to safe. Remember that."

James nodded, feeling humbled. Maze sounded like his father had when James was a child, always giving James lessons on pride and ego.

"In any case, that's not why I asked you to come," Maze continued, folding his hands in front of his face and contemplating James seriously. "Now, I don't want you to get too excited right away, as it's only a rumor but" the old mage leaned in even closer, "the Guild received word of the whereabouts of your mother and sister. Now," he said, holding up his hand to silence James, "We don't have exact details, nor can we even confirm if this is real, but I thought you might want to know."

For a long while, James sat in stunned silence, not able to say a word. Then finally, he found his voice. "But…I thought they had died…years ago...My father told me so!"

"Obviously, your father was lying. He probably thought that if you knew they were still alive, you'd go chasing after them. And I don't blame him. I probably would have too if it was me."

"But what do you wish for me to do with this information?" James asked, struggling with all this new knowledge.

"Do what you wish with it," answered Maze, "But be careful. I wouldn't just go wandering around the whole of Albion, trying to find them. It might come off as suspicious. Besides, you have your duties as a Hero to attend to."

James nodded again, still nearly speechless. He thought the conversation was over, but Maze had more to say. "And one other thing, James. Be careful out there. Albion is not what it used to be. The raid on your village so many years ago was but a small sample of what Albion is really like…we live in a dark age, one that won't be leaving us for a long while, I fear. Watch out for yourself, and watch out for your fellow humans. The fact that we still have a unified country is the only comfort we have left." And with that, he got up, not saying anything more, acknowledging no one, simply departing from the tavern and leaving James staring after him. With a grunt, James pushed himself up, his chair scraping against the flagstones, and left the tavern as well.

He began weaving his way back through the crowd, but in his mind, James was not in Bowerstone South. He was back in Oakvale, sitting on a grassy hill one balmy evening catching fireflies with his father.

"Dad, what really happened to mom and Theresa?" he inquired, hoping to get more than a vague answer this time around.

His father sighed, then said in an exasperated tone,

"James, I thought we had been over this before; that subject is not to be brought up. But if you must know, they died years ago, you know that. Now, it's getting late, and you should be in bed. Let those fireflies go and come along."

Suddenly, James was jarred from his thoughts, and brought abruptly back to there and then when he collided with a large, darkly clad man.

"Sorry mate," James muttered, trying to move away from the man, although the crowd was so thick that his task was made hard.

"Sorry? Maybe you should watch where you're going next time, Chicken Chaser," the man snarled at him from beneath his dark hood. "How would you like it if I pushed you?" With these words, he shoved James firmly in the chest, causing him to stumble against a young woman who was carrying a delicate clay pot. It fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces. The woman gave a cry of despair, but stopped and quailed when she saw the two men, who looked close to blows.

"Look, I didn't mean to bump into you, alright? It was an accident. It could've happened to anyone," James hissed, trying not to make too much of a scene.

"Well, I don't care. You made the mistake of bumping into me, and I'll make you pay for it." Without warning, he swung at James, but he dodged it, being smaller and more agile than the other man. Taking a deep breath, he tried to access his Will power, but found himself unable to. Then, with dawning horror, he realized that it was impossible to do Will in this city. Of course! If no weapons were allowed, then why should Will? James braced himself, realizing he'd have to fist fight his way out of it. The stranger swung at him again, but James blocked him with his arms, grunting slightly in pain. The man swung again, and James caught his arm, wrenching it downward. The stranger's defenses weakened, James took the chance to slam his fist into his stomach, and the man doubled up in pain, clutching his belly. Before he could recover, the young Hero smashed a fist into the side of strange man's head with a satisfying crunch, and he fell, motionless. James stopped, waiting for the man to get up, but he didn't rise. He simply laid there, a corpse, blood slowly pooling around his prone body. With a feeling of dread, James realized that he had just killed a man with his bare hands.

Soon, the crowd became aware of the dead man laying in their midst, and saw James, and the blood on his hand. They screamed and pointed, crying out that James was a brutal murderer. The guards caught the sound of their screams, and came rushing in, sword's drawn and caps pulled down.

"Over there!" one of them shouted, pointing a gloved finger at James, "there's the murderer!"

They began running towards them, their weapons gleaming, and James panicked. Defenseless against their swords, he bolted, heading into an alleyway without even thinking of where he was going. A low wall came up ahead of him, but he vaulted it easily, carrying on. The guards, however, were having more trouble. They weren't agile enough to get over the wall, and so had to take a different route to get to James, thus losing his trail.

Figuring he had successfully lost them, James turned around and doubled back on himself, vaulting over the wall once more. The crowd had calmed down considerable, as the bloody body had been removed. With his head down, James melted back into the crowd, making his way towards the oaken gates without anyone even recognizing him.

The darkness fell upon the land, pressing into every crevice and crack. It muffled any sound that arose and blinded those traders foolish enough to wander at night. In the silence that ensued, not a creature stirred, for it was late, when most were sleeping. For the young man sitting crouched in the shadow of Bowerstone's great stone wall, the conditions couldn't have been anymore perfect. He would not be heard, not be seen, in this pressing darkness.

For him, the obscurity was not a problem. Many nightly training sessions at the Guild had improved James' vision in the dark. It was not perfect, but it was enough for him to pick out faint details. He ran a hand over the rough stones of the wall, glancing up to the top of it. Although it was a vast wall, the pride of Bowerstone City, it was crudely fashioned, stones jutting out all over the place, making it easy for anyone who wished to climb. And that's exactly what James planned on doing. There was no getting back into the city through the gates; the guards would recognize him straightaway if he were to try and enter alone. It was also out of the question to wait until the morning to get into the city with the rest of the early rising crowd. No, James had planned on stealing his weapons back in the dead of night, when he could use the darkness to his advantage. He couldn't go without them; the Will and fist fighting would only get him so far. James would simply steal back his weapons and think of what to do later. At these thoughts, his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. What had happened to him that he now needed to steal and skulk in the shadows? His stomach gave another guilty lurch when he thought of what his father would think of this…_Enough!_ James thought. _Getting my weapons is what's important now. I can worry about ethics later!_ He shook his head to clear his mind, and then stood up cautiously, his legs slightly cramped after crouching for so long.

James bent his knees, and then leapt at the wall, grasping onto one of the jutting stones with both hands, and hauling his body up until his feet were level with his them. He continued scaling the wall in this manner until he was halfway up. James paused for a moment, looking back down at the ground. From here, it seemed a long way off, but James knew better than to let his fear overcome him. He pressed on, continuing to ascend the wall until he reached the top, where he crouched again, his back hunched and his clothes gently fluttering in the breeze. The excitement of what he was about to do coursed through his veins, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

A few feet below him, the murky outline of a shingled roof could be seen. James took a deep breath, and leapt, landing catlike and silently upon it. Keeping his belly down, he crawled along the top, until he came to the edge of the roof. James stood up warily, and then jumped to the next roof, making a mad dash to the other side, and then leaping again. Another three times he did this, until he came to the wall that divided Bowerstone South and North. Once again, he clambered up the wall until he was perched on top, looking out over the whole city. All he knew was that he needed to get into the Sheriff's office, which was just below him. He jumped down onto the roof, landing silently, as before contemplating his next move. _Fine, I'm on the roof_, James thought, _but how do I get in without a sound?_

He settled himself into a more comfortable position, all the while shrinking back into the shadows. It would not do to be caught now, not when he was so close to his goal. Looking out across the street, he caught sight of a young maid closing a window, but noticed that she didn't lock it. James sneered. The fools. They thought that they were so safe here in Bowerstone North, with their high wall and their guards. Never once did they think that maybe someone would be able to breach these defenses, someone with a more cunning mind than theirs. James grinned, knowing now what he would do to get his weapons back. Making one last check to see that no one was watching, he swung down from the roof, grasping the awning firmly with his hands. Just as he had suspected, the window was right in front of him. He swung himself forward gently, pushing at the window. It sighed open, a great, gaping mouth, ready to swallow him. With little effort, he swung himself into the room, and landed softly, not making a sound. Now, all that was left was to get the weapons and sneak back out.

The most obvious place they could be was in the Sheriff's bed chamber; hence, James would not look there. The Sheriff may not have been the sharpest man out there, but he'd have enough sense not to put them exactly where they were expected. According to the bandits James had eavesdropped on, the Sheriff kept them somewhere in the basement. With this knowledge in mind, James crept down the broad hallway, padding as silently as possible. The floors were made of the finest wood, and yet they did not creak. At various intervals along the whitewashed walls, pictures hung in gilt frames, clearly paintings of the Sheriff's deceased relatives.

Finally, James came to the head of the stairs, where they led into the gloom at the bottom. He could not see the base, but he was sure that it led to the main floor. Tentatively, he placed a foot on the first step, hoping that it wouldn't creak. Thankfully, it didn't make a sound. He took another careful step, checking that it didn't squeal before putting his full weight on it. He continued down the stairs in this fashion, until he was at the bottom. He let out the breath he had been holding. James had made it down without incident. Now, to get to the basement…creeping across the floor, he rounded a corner and came into the kitchen. There, right across the room, was the door leading to the basement. Dashing silently across the floor, James came up to the door and gave it a gentle push, and it swung inward without a sound. He almost sighed out loud with wonderment. The Sheriff really must have been either very trusting, or very stupid to leave the basement unlocked like this. James wouldn't have been surprised if the front door wasn't locked. But he would not risk trying to find out. Instead, he slinked down the stairs, and, as before, they did not squeak. James stepped down onto the cold, stone floor of the basement and looked around, squinting in the near obscurity. A few candles flickered and guttered in their brackets, casting an eerie glow and throwing shadows up onto the wall. There was very little in the basement, which surprised James. Of all people, he figured the Sheriff would have more things in here. James shrugged off these distracting thoughts, and continued his search for the confiscated weapons.

He spotted them, tossed carelessly into a corner, shining dully in the weak light. By the looks of things, his weapons weren't the only that were sequestered. With quick steps, James stole over to them, casting a quick glance over the pile and spotting his weapons. Picking them out with swift fingers, he gathered them under his arm and skulked back to the stairway, making his was cautiously back up them. He crossed the kitchen again, and began his wary trek up the stairs.

James was almost at the top when the step gave a terrible groan. It almost seemed to echo off the walls, and James was sure that the Sheriff would have heard him. He tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat, panic flooding through him. Without even thinking, he bolted for the window and threw himself out of it, landing hard in a wagon of hay. Climbing out ungracefully and strapping his sword, bow and quiver to his back, he began the laborious ascent up the wall, praying to the gods that the Sheriff would not peer out his window.

After hauling himself and the weapons up the wall, James settled on it, raking his gaze over the rooftops. There was no one about, no one leaning out of their windows. James heaved a great sigh of relief. He had made it. By some wild, miraculous chance, he had made it out of there without being caught, although it was close. James scuttled down the other side, and jumped down once he was close to the ground, landing with a slight thud. Taking off at a furious sprint, he ran until he reached the river that surrounded Bowerstone, and stopped, looking around. To his great relief, a small copse of dense trees stood next to the lazily flowing river. It would be the perfect place to hide out until he could escape to the Guild with one of the large crowds to shield him. Wandering over to the grove, James pushed his was through the thick undergrowth until he came to the oldest looking tree there. He slumped to the ground, pulling off his weapons. Settling between the knotty roots, James hung his head in shame, the full realization of what he had just done crashing down on him like a cold, harsh wave. He felt no more glory, no more pride. Not only had he killed a man in plain view, but he had skulked around in the middle of the night like a filthy thief, stealing back his things instead of simply paying the fine, as he should have. It would have made things a lot less bad. If he didn't make amends soon, his career as a noble Hero would be ruined. At the thought of nobility, he cringed. If his father knew…

He leaned his head back against the tree, feeling the rough bark on his scalp, and the cool air on his face. James would have to find a way to make things right. He'd just have to.


	14. Chapter 13

A fair wind blew through the masts, filling the white sails so that they billowed outwards, straining the lines and chains that held them to the masts. The ship itself sliced through the water smoothly, moving through the sea at a fast clip. Overhead, gulls cried and squawked, circling over the barque in the hopes of finding food.

Briar steadied herself against the fore royal yard, as she worked quickly to untie the lines that held the fore royal sail furled. The foot ropes dug into her bare feet, stinging slightly, but she didn't mind. Briar was happy for once, and that was all she cared about. It was good to feel the wind in her hair again, and the warm sun beating down on her face. She paused a moment to look out over the glittering sea, before returning to her work. Finally loosening the line, Briar watched as the sail unfurled slowly, the bottom finally reaching the yard below, where another sailor proceeded to lash the corner down. Her job done, she scurried down the ratlines quickly, finally landing on the main deck.

"Briar!" the Captain called, "I need you to unfurl the main royal sail! I'll send someone up after you, if you need the help!" She nodded, quickly scampering up the ratlines and hauling herself onto yard. Once again, she began untying the lines. Briar heard a scraping of chains and rope against wood, and twisted around to see who it was. Gasping, she nearly fell from the yard when she saw who it was.

"I'm surprised he's not making you set the upper topsails," Azmyth said with a huge grin on his sun darkened face. It had taken on a leathery look, and lines that Briar never remembered being present were etched into his face, reflecting the years of hard work he had gone through.

"Azmyth!" Briar gasped, "You're still sailing on the _Archon Castle_?"

"How could I ever leave her?" he replied, his grin never fading, "In any case, how are you?" he inquired, as he too began untying the lines.

"I've been better," Briar sighed, "but I suppose things are better than they could be."

"Ah, yes, I heard about your unfortunate events on the battlefield," Azmyth said sympathetically. "Must've been terrifying."

Briar shrugged. "I suppose it was. Although it pains me to say it, you become somewhat numb to that sort of thing, the longer you're exposed to it."

"I'd imagine so," Azmyth agreed, finally releasing the last line. "Well, our job is done. Best climb down and see what else the Captain would like us to do." And with that, he clambered down, as if he was one with the ship, the most natural thing in the world. Looking down at the deck below, Briar watched as the sailors worked hard, wandering back and forth across the deck, doing tasks here and there. The rhythmic chanting of "heave ho!" could be heard above the cries of the gulls and the snapping of the sails in the wind that had begun to pick up. She cast her glance to the fore of the ship, where three squalls were lined up on the horizon. They seemed to press low to the ocean, dark reminders of the dangers at sea.

Briar hailed the Captain, far below. "Captain! Three squalls lie to the north!"

He looked in the same direction as her, taking in the foreboding sight. "Yes, so it seems," he hollered back. He then turned to the crew, preparing to make an order. "HEAVE TO!" the Captain bellowed, addressing them all. The crew burst into a flurry of activity, the men scrambling to their stations.

"STAND BY TO HEAVE TO!" Men stood at the ready, preparing to cast off the lee gear, lifts, tacks and sheets. Briar joined another group of men who were in charge of dealing with the main braces on the quarter deck.

"MAINSAIL HAUL!"She and the men hauled, muscles straining, faces contorted in pain. Slowly, the upper yards began to turn, and soon, the lower yards did too. The main yard followed, much to their relief. All was moving smoothly, and with luck, the ship would be ready to stand by once the squalls hit.

"CAST OFF THE MAIN TACK!" Briar watch as a group of men released it, a popping sound being made as the lines were freed from their great strain. Finally, the ship began to slow, coming to a stop. Slowly, she crawled backwards, tracing a crescent moon like shape in the dark, choppy water. The wind spilling, she began creeping forward, and so they hove to again. And again. And again. They would have to do as such until the storm passed. Briar, leaving the men to do the arduous job, scampered back up the rigging to the fore royal yard, looking once again towards the horizon. The squalls were closer now, and it would only be a matter of time before their violence was unleashed upon them. She looked back down at the crew, noting how organized they were, their determination and hard work, and how desperate they were to stay the ship.

And then it hit.

The first squall struck her like a vicious animal, tearing at her clothes, her skin, her hair, as if it had every intent to rip her from the yard and cast her into the churning sea below. The ship began to rock and bow madly, and dip from side to side. One moment, Briar was above the deck; next, she was hanging out over the angry sea, clinging on for dear life. It would be suicide to try and climb down now, but it was also too dangerous to stay up here. Water began spilling over onto the deck, flooding it more than usual, forcing the men to cling on to anything that was not free moving. The wind almost seemed to be dying down, however, and Briar let her grip slacken a little.

And then the second one hit.

Briar screamed, wrapping her arms around the mast just in time. The second one was more vicious than the first, and it was almost successful in knocking her off the yard. She watched with dismay as a handful of men were swept overboard as a rogue wave washed up onto the deck. _This is madness_, Briar thought. A few more men simply jumped ship, knowing it was that, or get swept overboard.

And then the third one hit.

It was stronger than the last two, a terrible force, so strong it managed to successfully capsize the great _SV Archon Castle_. With a shriek, Briar was plunged into the choppy water, torn from the mast and tossed around like a rag doll. All around her, pieces of wood, canvas and rope were swept around. Every so often, a dead body would float past, the face and abdomen horribly swollen and pale, glistening with salt water. But Briar didn't even flinch. Not even in the slightest. She simply turned away, shutting the sight out. With desperation, she kicked her way towards a wide board, probably a piece from the hull, and clung on to it for dear life, just as the winds began to die, and the seas began to calm. Briar twisted around to look behind her, and watching sadly as the aft finally slid below the surface. The _SV Archon Castle_ was lost to the world, and now, all Briar had been left with was her life.

All was very quiet and still, the sounds muffled by a soft cover of white, fluffy snow. The air was chill, yet not uncomfortably so, and for once, the biting wind had gone away. The weak winter sun hung low in the sky, scarcely coming up over the horizon, and it painted soft pastel colours across the land, brushing the snow and pine tops with a gentle golden shimmer. Hoar frost clung to the poplars that stood among the pines, making them look as if they were carved out of dazzling crystals. The snow still fell softly, drifting down lazily and blanketing the land, pilling up in drifts and settling on tree branches. All was very calm and silent and comforting.

Briar crunched softly through the snow, trying not to disturb the peacefulness. For once in a long while, it was quiet, and Briar didn't want to wreck it. She just wanted some calm, to hide away from the rest of the world and be alone. Thankfully, the snow filled forest kept her hidden from prying eyes, and she would be alone, save for the animals that roamed between the trees or the birds that flitted through the air. Briar looked about herself, taking in the once familiar sight. She remembered that as a child she had loved the snow, but she also recalled that it snowed the day her father kicked her out. A single tear came to her eye as Briar thought about that fateful night, but she wiped it away angrily. She was tired of the tears, tired of always crying about things that had been said and done.

Composing herself, Briar kept padding through the snow, finally coming to a small clearing that was ringed by tall and majestic evergreens. The snow had settled on their branches, and it sparkled in the dying, golden sunlight. She allowed herself a small smile, admiring the beauty of the moment, and the simplicity of it. Standing there suddenly made her aware of the slight chill, and so she lit a small fire in the cusp of her hand, whispering a few choice words, watching it spring to life. It flickered and glowed warmly in her palm, yet did not burn her skin. Instead, it gave off comfortable and inviting warmth, and so she held it close to her body, pondering as to what to do next. The sunlight was quickly failing, and she knew it was dangerous to be outside at night during winter. Briar's Will would only protect her so much, and she only had one blade left after the wreck of the ship. She sighed, feeling indecisive. Briar knew that until she arrived at Snowspire and activated the Cullis Gate there, she would not be able to teleport home. She cursed, scuffing the ground angrily with her foot, furious at no one in particular that the sea had carried her so far from home, onto the frozen Northern Wastes. It was several days' worth of travelling on foot to Snowspire, and she didn't have near enough provisions to keep herself satisfied until she got there.

Briar heaved another sigh, suddenly feeling quite weary and hopeless. She felt like simply sitting herself down in the middle of the clearing and not moving an inch. She almost did so, when she heard a hair raising howl tear through the forest behind her. Briar froze, her whole body tense. It was just a wolf, she assured herself, just a wolf. No need to panic. Nevertheless, she swept her eyes across the forest, seeing nothing but the frozen landscape and the still falling snow. She almost laughed out loud, thinking herself mad. It was nothing, nothing at all. She was panicking for no reason. Composing herself, Briar prepared to continue on her journey, when she heard the monstrous howl again, this time closer. A deadly silence fell across the land. No birds sang, no animals stirred. There was only silence. Briar put a hand to the hilt of her blade, feeling seriously worried now, anticipating the attack that was sure to follow, but nothing happened. There was no sign of a terrible creature, no hint other than the howls that something was afoot. Briar removed her hand from the hilt, relaxing a little, yet still keeping an eye out and a keen ear. She saw and heard nothing.

Suddenly, there was a vicious growl from behind, and Briar felt a pain explode in her head as she was knocked forcefully to the ground, hot blood starting to pour from her shoulder. She struggled to unsheathe her weapon, but to no avail. Whatever it was had her pinned down with a large paw, and she couldn't wiggle free of its grasp. Her mind racing, Briar frantically tried to remember something that might help her. She could use her Will, but she was tired enough as is, and it would drain her of all the energy she had left. But what choice did Briar have? She couldn't reach her weapon, and the creature didn't seem to be letting up. Everything had happened so fast, and she was caught off guard.

The beast snarled again, a terrifying sound that seemed to rumble up from the very core of the creature. It seemed to lean its whole weight onto her, piercing through her leather armour and puncturing her back, drawing even more blood. This was it. If Briar didn't take a risk with using Will now, she'd be dead. She closed her eyes slowly, taking in a deep, shaky breath, summoning the magic, just as she had always done back at the Guild. This time, however, she knew a lightening spell wouldn't be enough. Concentrating all her energy on the creature above her, she released her Will, sending a violent force field tearing through the clearing, knocking the creature away. Briar heaved herself onto her back, but the pain was so bad she couldn't stay like that for long. Panting heavily, she began to drag herself to a tree, but then she heard the creature pull itself up to its feet. Twisting around, she gasped in horror when she beheld the beast in front of her. Standing there, drawn up to its full, imposing height, was a Frost Balverine. Its vicious, serrated claws glinted menacingly in the dying light, scarlet blood dripping from them into the pure white snow. Sharp, razor like teeth were bared, and its dark eyes flashed dangerously, fur bristling.

Briar's heart sank when she saw that the spell had had no effect on the beast. It stood just as strong as ever, yet she was drained, no longer capable of fighting. Despite that, she drew her weapon just as the beast began pacing towards her, claws raised. Her attempts to defend herself seemed feeble, but it was all Briar had. The Balverine towered over her, but she raised the weapon nonetheless, just as it slashed at her face, claws glinting. It beat her sword out of her hands, as if it were nothing more than a twig, and Briar watched in dismay as the weapon flipped end over end, catching the last of the sun's rays, landing somewhere in the underbrush several feet away. She paled, knowing there was nothing she could do now. Her weapon was gone, and she was too weak and weary to use the Will. The Frost Balverine raised its arm again, and before Briar could even so much as move an inch, it clubbed her across the face, and she felt a searing pain over her right eye and her neck, more hot blood spilling out of her wounds. The force of the hit slammed her up against a tree, and Briar struck her head, the pain blinding her momentarily. She looked up at the beast, still dazed, waiting for it to strike its final blow, but it seemed happy to simply draw out her suffering. Taking the few precious seconds granted to her, Briar began frantically patting herself down, praying that she might have something on her that could aid in the situation. She found nothing, until her hand felt the handle of something tucked deep into her pocket. She pulled it out, and almost cried in relief. It was her marlinspike, the end of it still filed to a deadly point. And glinting on the surface of it, coating the whole tool, was the one thing Briar had desperately needed. Silver. The one thing that was sure to kill a Balverine. Now she understood why the Captain had given her one of these. You never knew what sort of situations you could get yourself into, whether it be sailing the seas or exploring dry land. Briar raised her eyes to those of the Frost Balverine, and it howled again, louder than ever, preparing to make its final attack. It crouched down, tensing up, face twisted in a terrible snarl. Swiftly, the Frost Balverine threw itself at Briar, but she was ready. Struggling to her knees, Briar raised the marlinspike behind her head, and just as the beast drew nearer, she hurled the makeshift weapon at it. Time almost seemed to slow for her as she watched the glittering marlinspike slice through the air, and then slam into the Frost Balverine's chest, piercing its black heart. It shrieked in pain, desperately scrabbling at the marlinspike, but the weapon was too small for the beast to properly grasped. Blood spurted from the horrid wound, staining its white fur, and the Frost Balverine collapsed upon the ground, chest heaving with the effort of breathing. Its whole body shuddered violently, and Briar watched in horror as the beast gave on final convulsion, finally dying. Dark, almost black, inky blood, began pooling on the ground, mixing with the scarlet of Briar's own. She cringed, suddenly becoming very aware of her terrible injuries. Aside from the dreadful pain, she felt drained, incapable of moving an inch, her whole body screaming out in protest. And so she simply curled up on the ground, amidst all the blood, and the gore, and the death. Briar began to sob, harder than she ever had in her life. She seemed to be crying out her whole heart and soul, but she couldn't stop herself. And so she simply lay there, weeping her heart out just as the last of the sun's rays fell below the horizon.


End file.
